


Noble Metals

by Veldeia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (reluctantly and for all the wrong reasons), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Break Up, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Life Model Decoys, M/M, Palladium Poisoning, Sick Tony Stark, Steve Needs a Hug, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veldeia/pseuds/Veldeia
Summary: Living together with the Avengers, in a relationship with Steve, Tony's as happy as he's ever been—until it turns out he's dying of palladium poisoning. Unwilling to tell anyone, he replaces himself with a Life Model Decoy and breaks up with Steve, so he can hide and focus on fixing his arc reactor before it's too late.Steve can't decide if Tony is acting strangely or if that's just his denial speaking. Tony Mark II struggles to figure out the best course of action, stuck handling issues he was never programmed to deal with. And Tony isn't sure he can ever get Steve back, even if he survives.





	1. Palladium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonK/gifts).



> The story was inspired by [this](http://68.media.tumblr.com/438e52ef73ac927c4e93cbbc7fa53b3a/tumblr_oqn7rv67RT1sqeuv5o5_1280.png) pretty and intriguing art by DragonK ([AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonK/pseuds/DragonK) / [tumblr](http://dksartz.tumblr.com)), who was awesome to work with and made so many more amazing arts for this story! The art is embedded in the fic, and also has a [tumblr post](http://dksartz.tumblr.com/post/161170026943/dksartz-my-many-artworks-for-team-classic-for) where you can see all the lovely pretties at once (contains some spoilers for the story).
> 
> This is a canon divergent MCU AU in which the palladium poisoning story arc didn't take place during Iron Man 2. So, it's not canon compliant from there on out. Also, while LMDs are a thing in the extended MCU, particularly in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., I have chosen to ignore that. For the purposes of this story, SHIELD is not aware that such a thing exists, or that Tony has built one.
> 
> Finally, I'd like to thank the three betas who all came to my rescue in the nick of time: [morphia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/pseuds/morphia), [antigrav_vector](http://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector) and [Lets_call_me_Lily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_call_me_Lily), as well as the #cap-im chat people for all your support! <3

> _Palladium is a metal with low toxicity. It is poorly absorbed by the human body when digested. . . . High doses of palladium could be poisonous; tests on rodents suggest it may be carcinogenic, though no clear evidence indicates the element harms humans._ [[1](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palladium#Toxicity)]

  


* * *

  


Tony woke up feeling vaguely nauseous, with a hint of a headache. A couple of months ago, he would've probably been resigned to his fate and gotten up to grab some painkillers, but things were different, now. He was in absolutely no hurry to move. Instead, he pressed his forehead against Steve's wonderfully warm shoulder, hoping that'd be enough to push the queasiness to the background.

He wasn't used to his life being this amazing. He'd probably never been this happy. Of course, that (and feeling ill) should've been his first clue that everything was about to go to hell.

People always tended to think that being a billionaire meant he was happy, because he never needed to worry about money. And sure, being filthy rich definitely had its perks, he would freely admit that. Still, there was a point to those platitudes about not being able to buy happiness. Overall, he'd spent most of his life being pretty damn unhappy, from the childhood where he'd never been good enough to fill all dad's expectations, to the adult years he'd spent drinking and partying to fill the general meaningless void that was his life.

Really, he owed Loki one, because he was here all thanks to that incident.

Sure, Iron Man and the arc reactor—which was currently feeling slightly itchy around the edges, he noted, rubbing at it absently—were due to Obie and his hired terrorist pals. But if not for Loki, he wouldn't have ended up as an Avenger, and he never would have met Steve. He'd been doing perfectly fine on his own, after all. He'd had no reason to want to join Fury's team.

He hadn't been particularly happy during his solo stretch as Iron Man, though. It'd been a tall order, handling the CEO position and the superheroing all on his own. Then he'd had that showdown with Vanko and Hammer, which he'd also handled alone, just fine.

Okay, that was a lie; he'd only barely handled it and there had been far too much collateral damage.

Somehow, Natasha, who'd been spying on that mess, had still written a highly favorable review on Tony. Thanks to that, he'd had to add working for SHIELD to his already busy schedule—not to mention the time he'd spent dodging Director Fury's attempts to recruit him for the Avengers Initiative. He hadn't wanted a team.

He _had_ eventually relented to building a suit for Rhodey, so that he could call in backup when facing the most demanding customers, and to stop Rhodey from grumbling so much. He'd also ended up building a Life Model Decoy of himself: an android lookalike who could take over some of his lighter duties. On close inspection, Tony Mark II didn't quite pass for him, but he was good enough for board meetings, low profile charity events and the like.

So, Tony had been managing things, more or less, but he'd been almost too busy and too tired to think, and yeah, now that he thought back to those times, he'd also been lonely. Pathetic, but true. For a few moments there, after Afghanistan, he'd thought he and Pepper might've had something, but somewhere along the way, he'd messed that up. Possibly by never being around, and occasionally replacing himself with an android without advance warning. Boy, Pepper had hated Mark II with a passion, after mistaking him for Tony a couple times.

Eventually, he'd come to realize that there was a better solution to the situation, which was to make Pepper the CEO. He should've done it earlier, really. He probably wouldn't have needed Mark II if he had. Better late than never, though; it'd improved the overall quality of life for both of them.

Tony had still been trying to get used to the sudden drop in double and triple-booked days in his timetable when Loki had happened. Fury had sent one of his lackeys to ask Tony for help once more, and he'd decided to have a crack at Avenging. That had been another excellent choice. The best choice he'd ever made.

"Tony?" Steve mumbled sleepily, his hand settling on Tony's hip. "What time is it?"

He'd met Steve, and despite the rough start, they'd somehow become friends, and then—as difficult as that still was to believe—after living in the Tower together for a couple of months, more than friends.

"It's early. You can go back to sleep," Tony told him, moving his head to nuzzle Steve's cheek.

They'd been together for a month and a half now. A month and a half of mind-blowing sex, of late night and early morning cuddles, and between those, sleeping better than he had in ages.

"Can't sleep when you're thinking so loud I can hear the cogs turning," Steve complained, running his hand up Tony's side to sink his fingers in his hair.

It felt amazing. The fingertips massaging his scalp would certainly drive away any lingering remains of that headache. "I'm insulted," Tony returned, his face still pressed against Steve's cheek. "First of all, there are no cogs in my brain. Secondly, even if there were, they'd be well oiled and soundless."

"Hmm, that so?" Steve said, and turned to face Tony, using that hand to pull him into a kiss.

Tony flung his leg over Steve's, threw one arm around him, and clung to him as he kissed Steve back. Steve's kisses were something. Super soldier kisses. Strong, like everything about him. He could just keep going until Tony was utterly breathless.

This was just too perfect, and he wanted to stay in the moment forever and ignore the world.

He tried to put everything that he felt into the kiss, sucking his lips tight against Steve's, hugging him as tightly as he could.

They hadn't said the words yet. Talking about love wasn't something Tony had ever done, really. Some day, though, he was going to. He did love Steve, after all. So much.

Finally, Tony had to let go to gasp for air. "I think you've sorted out the 'thinking too much' thing," he purred once he'd found his breath again.

"Good," Steve said smugly. "Want to keep at it, or should we go for breakfast?"

The idea of breakfast still wasn't all that appealing to Tony, but he definitely felt better. Who needed painkillers when there was Steve? He was in absolutely no hurry to get up.

Tony traced his fingers down Steve's back, over those lines of perfectly sculpted muscle, feeling the ridges of his spine. "It's way too early for breakfast. I vote we stay in bed."

  


* * *

  


Tony woke up ever so slightly queasy the next morning, too, and the morning after that. It didn't feel serious; he could easily ignore it. He figured he must be coming down with something.

He didn't say a word to Steve, since he knew Steve would overreact and tell him to take time off, maybe ask him to sit out the next couple of missions, which he didn't want to do. If he did that every time he felt a little off, he'd never get anything done. That was the reality of living with the arc reactor, after all. He rarely felt a hundred percent.

Whatever was currently going on with his less than perfect body was slowly starting to become a nuisance, though. The days went by, and he just wasn't feeling better.

Half the time he was sure he was just imagining the whole thing. The other half he spent thinking up worst case scenarios. Maybe his heart was giving out on him for good. Or maybe it was something else. Some type of cancer? An assassination attempt using some exotic bioweapon?

He tried to tell himself that he'd feel far worse if it was something properly serious.

After two weeks of mild but persistent nausea and varied aches, long enough that Steve had started giving him worried looks and asking if he was okay, he decided he couldn't go on ignoring it, and turned to the one person he could trust in these matters: his AI.

He was far more nervous than he cared to admit when JARVIS announced the analysis was complete.

"Okay. Hit me, J. I'm not pregnant, am I?"

Morning sickness jokes. Ha ha. It wasn't really funny, and didn't help his anxiety.

"You seem to lack some of the necessary parts for that," JARVIS quipped, but then hesitated before going on. That couldn't be good. "I don't have a conclusive diagnosis, more of a hypothesis."

"Just tell me," Tony ordered.

"Very well. Sir, I'm picking up trace levels of palladium in your blood," JARVIS said.

Tony swallowed, and pursed his lips. He didn't like the sound of that. "So, clearly the arc reactor isn't as well contained as I thought. Okay. You think that's what's making me sick?"

"It's the most likely explanation," JARVIS said. "I took the liberty of running a cursory search of the relevant literature and came up with nothing. There are barely any publications regarding palladium toxicity, and obviously your current condition is without precedent."

"Obviously." Yeah, no one else had spent years of their life with a miniaturized fusion reactor embedded in their sternum.

"This means that, assuming it is the cause, it's difficult to tell how the condition will progress," JARVIS went on.

"You do have my numbers. Extrapolate," Tony suggested.

JARVIS seemed to hesitate again. He wasn't supposed to do that. "Sir, any such predictions would be highly speculative and unreliable."

He must've run the prediction already, and didn't like the results.

"Stop deflecting, J," Tony said.

"To deflect would be against my programming," JARVIS pointed out. "Extrapolating on your medical recordings over the last month, my best estimate is that you'll continue to decline as the palladium accumulates in your system."

That really, really didn't sound good. "Decline, until what? Until it kills me?"

"This is all very preliminary, and there are far too many variables to say anything for sure," JARVIS said firmly.

"But that's what your current numbers suggest. That this is terminal."

"I'm afraid so, sir," JARVIS finally admitted.

Tony leaned both elbows on the table and his forehead against his fists, feeling far more ill than he had before. Like he couldn't breathe. The arc reactor was suddenly way too heavy in his chest. As if he could actually feel the metal dissolving from the core and contaminating his body.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He'd been so sure the worst case scenarios his brain had been coming up with were all exaggerated, but yeah, nope. He'd been right all along.

He was dying.

"As I said, my estimates could be completely wrong. This might be something that your body can fight off. The human body is an extremely complex system and for all the information I can access, I'm no substitute for an actual expert. I recommend you contact a medical professional with suitable credentials as soon as possible."

Tony looked up and shook his head. "No."

He'd dealt with the arc reactor all by himself so far. If there was one principle he was going to hold on to till the day he died, that was that the technology needed to stay with him. If he did die—Pepper would have access to the blueprints, and he trusted her judgement with them. But as long as he drew breath, that information was his, and only his.

No. He wasn't going to involve anyone else in this.

"Are you at least going to let Captain Rogers and the other Avengers know?" JARVIS asked.

Shit. Steve.

He couldn't tell Steve.

Technically, as JARVIS had reminded him multiple times, they were just guesstimating here, anyway. He didn't know how serious this was going to be. No one on the planet did, because this was a unique medical condition no one had faced before. He didn't _know_ he was dying. He might be. Considering how things tended to go in his life, he'd bet money on it. But even if he was, there must be something he could do about it.

If he told Steve, Steve would be worried sick. Steve would also definitely bench Tony from the Avengers. He wasn't sure if he could stay sane if he wasn't allowed in the field. He didn't want to be treated differently, and he certainly didn't want worry and pity and all that. He couldn't deal with that on top of this.

He'd tell them later, when he knew more. Preferably when he'd sorted this out.

"No," Tony said again.

"Sir—"

"I'm not going to tell them about this, and you won't, either. I'll go sudo on you if I have to," Tony warned. Some days, he wished he hadn't made JARVIS quite so intelligent, or so protective. "You're not going to mention this to the others no matter what. This is a technical problem. There's got to be some way to better shield the palladium core or something I can use in its place that's not a health hazard. I'm going to fix this. Just watch me."

  


* * *

  


He couldn't fix it.

He had ideas, but he couldn't make them work.

He knew there had to be something. This wasn't an unsolvable issue, surely. This was a practical problem that science could solve. This was exactly what he was good at. There had to be a solution.

He just couldn't find it.

After weeks of fruitless effort, Tony realized he couldn't go on like this. He was starting to feel so sick that keeping it from Steve was becoming impossible. He couldn't very well explain every time Steve caught him hugging the toilet bowl as food poisoning, a hangover or a migraine.

There were now visible, dark lines starting to snake outwards from the arc reactor, and hiding them meant he couldn't let Steve see him shirtless, which meant coming up with way too many excuses, showing up to bed late or sleeping with a shirt on. Steve was too smart to not start asking questions.

The problem about coming up with a solution, Tony reasoned, was that he didn't have enough time, and he lacked privacy. He wouldn't be able to lock himself in the lab for days on end, because there were always missions to attend, and even if there weren't, sooner or later, someone—most likely Steve, but it might just as well end up being Nat, Bruce or Clint, with Thor currently in Asgard—would show up to drag him out.

Sooner or later, the other Avengers would corner him and he'd have to explain everything to them.

On some level, he kind of wanted that. He could fess up and possibly have a nice long cry against Steve's shoulder. It'd be a relief to stop evading the questions, and in the short term, he might actually feel a little better about everything. But it wouldn't get him any closer to a solution.

If he kept going like this, he'd run out of time long before he could fix himself. He needed to try another approach.

What he really needed was a time-out. Preferably somewhere with good facilities. Like, say, his shop in Malibu. That'd be ideal. With better weather, too.

If he were only dealing with the Avengers, he could claim it was a business trip, but Pepper wouldn't buy that, and he didn't want to tell her, either. If he just disappeared without giving a solid explanation to everyone, they'd probably assume he'd been kidnapped, and that'd be a complete mess.

Basically, he needed to go away without anyone noticing he wasn't around anymore. Good thing that was something he'd needed to do before, and had already sorted out.

It was time to break out Tony Mark II again.

There was only one snag in this plan. Mark II was perfectly capable of doing everything Tony might need to do. He could attend meetings, join in missions as Iron Man, lounge on the couch at movie nights, and sit in the shop poking at projects. He'd even emulate Tony's brilliant sense of humor. Mark II was a very good stand-in, but he wasn't perfect.

Steve would realize Mark II wasn't actually Tony. Even though the advanced AI was very good at mimicking Tony's speech patterns, Mark II wasn't quite as expressive as him, and would miss some of the finer nuances in communication. The LMD wouldn't feel entirely human if Steve cuddled up to him, either, and wasn't fully functional for bedroom activities. (Tony had every intention of building a sex bot one day, but Mark II wasn't it.)

The more Tony thought about it, the more convinced he became that he really had only one way to keep Steve from figuring out the switch-up as soon as it'd happened.

  


* * *

  


  


"Steve, we need to talk," Tony said.

Steve put down the book he'd been reading and got up from the couch, facing Tony with his arms crossed, frowning. "Tony. We've watched enough movies. I know what that conversation starter usually means. That's not what you're going for, right?"

Tony didn't want to do this, but he saw no other option.

The one way to keep Steve from noticing that Tony was literally not himself would be to put some distance between himself and Steve. Besides, if Tony couldn't fix the palladium problem—and he wasn't entirely sure he could—he wanted Steve to move on. This would certainly make sure Steve did.

No goodbyes, no tears. Sooner or later Steve would figure out Tony's deception, and he'd probably be angry. Then he'd get over it and find someone else.

Tony just needed to say the words.

He took a deep breath. It felt like the air in the room didn't have any oxygen in it. He struggled to keep his expression neutral and closed his hands into fists to hide how badly they were shaking.

"As a matter of fact, it is," Tony said.

"Tony," Steve said, his tone confused, and stepped closer, placing his hands on Tony's biceps. "Why would you..."

Tony couldn't help flinching. He wanted Steve's arms around him, wanted to be held close so he could soak Steve's warmth and feel safe and imagine things could be okay, but that was exactly what he shouldn't do.

He crossed his arms tightly over his chest. Forget about the slowly worsening symptoms of the palladium toxicity. That was nothing compared to how he was hurting now, like he'd just woken up in the middle of surgery in a goddamn Afghan cave with his chest cut open, his heart exposed.

Steve pulled his hands back, his mouth hanging half open with unasked questions.

"Steve. You must've noticed I've not been exactly myself lately," Tony began.

"Sure, you've seemed distant and distracted," Steve said. "To be honest, I was starting to get worried. You know you can always talk to me."

"Well, I'm talking to you now," Tony returned. "I couldn't talk to you earlier because I've just," he stopped and swallowed. He'd planned this conversation so carefully in his head. He needed to stick to his lines. "I've been thinking about us a lot, and—I can't do this anymore."

Steve drew a sharp breath, looking like Tony had just kicked him. Well, he had. Kind of.

"Why? Is this about something I did? I didn't even know we had a problem! Why now?" Steve asked, despair starting to creep into his voice.

"You haven't done anything wrong," Tony assured him. "And _we_ don't have a problem. It's all me."

"Really, Tony. 'It's not you, it's me'?" Steve said. So well-versed in pop culture now. Tony would've been proud if he wasn't in so much pain.

"Yeah," he said, forcing a rueful chuckle. "It's all me, because—I've been thinking about this so much, it's eating me up from the inside. The thing is, Steve. I like you a lot. You're an amazing guy. The most handsome person I've met. Loyal. Funny. Very smart—that's a huge compliment coming from me, by the way. I like you. But I just don't think I love you."

That was a lie, of course. A blatant lie. The ugliest one he'd ever spoken. He loved Steve. He loved Steve so much, he didn't think he'd ever felt this strongly about anyone before. But this had to be real to Steve and it had to be final. It had to be ugly and awful so Steve wouldn't even want to talk to him for a while. There couldn't be any hope of working out their issues.

"It's been good, and I've enjoyed every day with you, but really, you deserve better, Steve," Tony added. "You deserve someone who feels like you do. I've been leading you on. It's not right."

Steve made a choking noise, and when he spoke, his voice was stifled. "Why would you say that? You can't really mean it. It's not true."

"You think I'd say something like that if I didn't mean it?" Tony said, managing to put some vehemence into it. He could feel tears prickling at his eyes. It didn't matter; he could cry. It wouldn't be out of character. Even if he had been speaking the honest truth and not spouting painful lies, he could've still been sad. "You know, that playboy reputation didn't come from nowhere."

"You're not really like that," Steve insisted, looking miserable. "I know you."

Tony shook his head, trying to force his lips into some kind of a smile. "You think you do. I can be very charming when I want to, but that's the surface. The ugly truth deep down is that I don't really love you. I never did, and I never will."

Steve took a step backwards, breathing hard, looking like he couldn't decide if he wanted to break into tears or to punch Tony in the face.

  


Tony would've gladly taken that punch.

"All right. You've made your point, loud and clear." Steve's voice was low and menacing.

"I think I'd better go now," Tony said.

"Yes," Steve said.

"I'm really sorry, Steve," Tony added, backing away from him.

Steve's jaw clenched, and undoubtedly he would've had a lot more to say, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was, "Yeah. Me too."

It crossed Tony's mind then that this might be the last time he ever saw Steve face to face. But this wasn't the Steve he wanted to remember, the one with the red eyes and the terribly sad and betrayed expression. He wanted to forget that he'd ever made Steve look like that.

Honestly, maybe it'd be better if he died. He might've messed their relationship up for good, no matter what. There might be no coming back even if he should survive.

He stumbled out of the room and into the elevator, not looking back.

He wanted to curl up on the floor in fetal position and cry his eyes out, but he couldn't let himself fall apart quite yet. There were a few more things left to do. So, he settled for slumping against the wall while still on his feet, swallowing tears.

"JARVIS, sub-basement," he grunted.

JARVIS didn't say anything. Even his goddamn AI hated him for this. At least the elevator started moving.

The sub-basement lay deep underground, the only thing beneath it the arc reactor supplying the Tower's electricity. It was a place that no one ever had any reason to visit, mostly used for housing servers and random bits of old forgotten projects. Tony assumed that at least Natasha and Clint had gone snooping around at some point, but there were several rooms they couldn't have accessed. Rooms that required combinations of a fingerprint, a retinal scan, or a recognized voice and a master override code.

One of these rooms was where he'd stored Tony Mark II.

Tony had spent a considerable amount of time over the past few days bringing Mark II up to date on everything he'd missed while he'd been shut down and not in use. He hadn't explained everything, though. He wasn't going to risk Mark II blabbing his secrets. So he hadn't explained why he was going away. He also hadn't told him he'd been together with Steve and broken up; instead, he'd emphasized several times that Mark II should avoid contact with Steve as much as possible.

When Tony entered the room, he found his LMD lookalike sitting down in one corner, a pad in hand. He stood up as soon as he spotted Tony, and greeted him with, "Wow, you look rough. Everything okay?"

"No, but that's none of your concern," Tony said, steeling his shoulders. "We're going to swap clothes now."

"Oh, I love it when you're all dominant like that," Mark II quipped.

Tony found his lips quirking a little, in spite of everything. Yeah, he'd done a good job coding this AI. He'd put a lot of himself there.

He wondered if he maybe wouldn't have needed to go through this heartbreaking charade with Steve. Maybe Mark II could've fooled everyone—but no. Tony didn't really believe he could. Mark II might look like Tony and talk like him, but he wouldn't stand to close scrutiny. If Steve hugged him close, he'd realize he didn't feel or smell like Tony, or like a human at all. Tony hadn't built the Mark II with close contact in mind.

He'd had to do what he'd done to Steve.

Tony supposed the Avengers would notice his deception sooner or later, even if no one cuddled up to Mark II. Or maybe Pepper would catch it first; she did have prior experience with the LMD. Anyway, by the time when someone figured it out, Tony would hopefully either have a cure, or be dead, and it wouldn't matter anymore.

"Just take your shirt off," he told the LMD tiredly, and proceeded to do that with his own tank top.

  


Talking about differences, huh. Mark II probably had a couple of pounds of muscle on him. He had lost weight, over the past month. Not to mention the lack of ugly dark veins radiating from the arc reactor in Mark II's chest, the one that was his power source. The palladium obviously wouldn't be an issue for Mark II, seeing as he was completely mechanical and didn't have all these fragile biological bits.

Mark II, indeed. He was better than Tony, in a lot of things.

Soon, Tony was wearing the trousers and dress shirt that Mark II had had when Tony had last shut him down and stuffed him into storage—they smelled vaguely stale, after sitting around in a concrete basement for over a year—and Mark II was in Tony's jeans and top, ready to face the world.

"Okay. Go out there and make me proud, son," Tony said.

"You take care, old man," Mark II said. Funny how the tone and the expression almost made Tony think he cared.

Mark II was a very good AI in an extremely well made android body, but he wasn't human. He wasn't properly self-aware or sentient as far as Tony knew. JARVIS might be, by now—there was no way to be sure—but he had no reason to think Mark II might be. Tony was just anthropomorphizing here. Of course Mark II didn't care about him; he was only doing what he'd been programmed to do.

Once Mark II was out of the door, Tony finally allowed his trembling legs to fold and slid to the floor, breathing in stuttering gasps.

He'd still need to sneak out of the building and hail a cab to take him to the airport, where a charter jet booked under a fake name would be waiting to fly him to the West Coast, but that could wait.

He'd officially passed on his duties as both Tony Stark and Iron Man to Mark II. He was just a ghost now. The only appointment in his calendar was with the ultimate goth guy and his scythe, and he was planning on avoiding that if possible.

Before doing anything else, he was going take a moment to mourn the end of what had been the happiest months of his life.

Steve. God, he was going to miss Steve so much.


	2. Iridium

> _Iridium is the most corrosion-resistant of all known metals. It can even withstand attack with hot aqua regia and can be used routinely at temperatures up to 2000 °C. Because it is extremely hard, it is very difficult to machine into useful shapes. Where other metals become less brittle after annealing (a process of heating and slowly cooling), iridium becomes brittle and completely unworkable._ [[2](http://nobel.scas.bcit.ca/resource/ptable/ir.htm)]

  


* * *

  


"I'm really sorry, Steve," Tony said, looking like he actually meant it.

Steve wanted to grab his arms and shake him, to shout at him to take back everything he'd said, because he couldn't mean it, couldn't possibly want this. This had to be some kind of a misunderstanding or mistake or a bad dream, because there was no reason for Tony to be doing this, not now, not when everything had been so good and Steve had, for once in his life, felt like he belonged and like he was happy right where he was. But Tony had already said that he did mean it, and he'd seemed so honest, so heartbreakingly sad, like it was so difficult for him to say these things; like he didn't want to, but he had to.

So, Steve closed his hands into fists, held his arms by his sides, swallowed all the words he wanted to say, and just muttered, "Yeah. Me too."

Tony turned around and made his escape, not looking back.

Steve staggered backwards and landed heavily on the couch, sending the book he'd been reading clattering to the floor. He couldn't be bothered to pick it up. He grabbed the seat cushions with both hands, gripping the fabric so hard he thought he might leave a permanent crease in it.

Tony had left a permanent mark in him. Tony had stepped into the room and driven a barbed dagger right through his heart.

Steve stared into the distance, not really seeing anything, trying to grasp that this was entirely real and not some terrible nightmare.

"JARVIS," he breathed out, his voice wavering. "Tell me. You—you saw that too? Tony was here and he just—"

"Yes, Captain. A conversation took place between the two of you," the AI confirmed. "But I will not be able to play it back. I did not record it. It was for your ears only, and so it shall remain."

"Thanks, I guess," Steve muttered.

It had happened. Tony really had broken up with him, without any warning, completely out of the blue. Or perhaps not completely; Steve had noticed something was up with him over the past few weeks. Tony had seemed absent and downcast, and on several days also like he wasn't feeling good, to the point that Steve had been starting to worry for his health. Now it seemed that his health had not been the issue.

It had all been because of Steve.

Even though Tony had been more distant, hadn't been as cuddly and had been less eager and excited about sex, it hadn't occurred to Steve that they might have a problem. They'd been so good together. He'd thought Tony was as happy as he was.

Tony had been in love, Steve had thought. They'd never said the words aloud, but talking about feelings wasn't something Steve did a lot anyway, and it had felt like such a big step to take. He'd been hoping Tony would do it first.

Instead of the first 'I love you' he had gotten an 'I don't love you'.

Maybe Steve had just been too blinded by his own strong feelings to see they weren't mutual. Maybe Tony really had spoken the truth, and had never loved Steve. That part about his playboy reputation Steve still didn't buy, though. Tony was a good man. Steve was convinced of that, and nothing could make him change his mind.

Tony must've done a lot of introspection about his feelings, and when he'd come to this painful conclusion, he'd probably been going out of his mind trying to decide what to do.

Steve still didn't want to believe it, but the more he thought about it, the better it seemed to fit how Tony had been acting.

God, how was he ever going to get over this?

On some level, he thought he should be angry. Tony had clearly realized he wanted out of the relationship weeks ago, but had kept it to himself. Like he'd said, he'd been leading Steve on.

The anger wouldn't come, though. Steve just felt a bottomless sadness.

Thinking that he'd never hold Tony in his arms again, that they'd never kiss, that they'd never sleep in the same bed—it was like physical pain, like an asthma attack that took away his breath, a mortal wound that was bleeding out all the joy and happiness he'd had, leaving a cold void.

And yet, it wasn't as if Tony was dead, he reminded himself. They'd still both be Avengers. They'd have to somehow function as team members.

He wondered absently if he'd have to break these news to everyone else, or if Tony would do it. Steve didn't want to be the one to do it. He couldn't imagine himself facing Natasha or Clint or Bruce and explaining what had happened.

He knew he hadn't really done anything wrong. Things like this happened. Relationships didn't always work out, chemistries didn't match. And still, he couldn't help wondering if he could've done something differently. Been better, somehow. If there was some reason why Tony hadn't, after all, loved him.

Maybe, once the dust had settled, he could talk to Tony again, and they could really get to the bottom of this. Now was much too early, though. Now, all he wanted was to be alone with his feelings, and he was sure Tony would want the same.

  


* * *

  


  


Steve barely slept that night; his bed felt huge and empty without Tony in it. He'd gotten so used to sharing. Having it all to himself again meant less dodging elbows and knees and being stuck in uncomfortable positions, but he couldn't bring himself to see that as a positive thing. He'd rather spend the whole night with Tony's elbow digging into his side and one arm falling asleep than alone.

He was sort of pathetic, maybe.

He got up early, and though he only felt half-awake and not great, he forced himself to go out for a jog. It turned into a proper high-intensity run, and he didn't want to stop at all. He would probably have kept on running for hours if a growing faint feeling hadn't reminded him that he needed to eat.

Wary of running into Tony when he wasn't sure if he could hold himself together and not say something that was either hurtful or pitiful, Steve scanned the surroundings carefully as he entered the kitchen. There was no one there.

He settled at the table with a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee. Everything felt slightly surreal, as if he wasn't quite awake.

When he heard approaching footsteps, he jumped, ready to make a hasty retreat, but it wasn't Tony. It was Natasha, who gave him a frown and pursed her lips. Steve could guess she'd heard the news before she opened her mouth.

"You know what happened," Steve said, not really a question.

"Tony texted me to let me know," Natasha confirmed.

Steve slumped in his chair and sighed out of relief. At least he was spared having to go through it again. He wasn't sure what to say next. He grabbed his coffee instead, taking a slow sip, staring at his cereal.

Natasha walked over to his side and sat down next to him. "Are you okay, Steve?" she asked.

Steve shrugged, and tilted his head from side to side. "Well, I've been through worse. I don't know. I'm sure I will be."

"If you want to talk, I'm right here," Natasha said.

Steve was so glad to have this team. These people who genuinely cared. "Thanks, but I think I need some more time to sort out my thoughts."

Natasha gave his hand a pat. "That's okay, I understand. I'll go grab myself a coffee, too, but I'll stick around, if you don't mind the company."

"The company's great. Please, stay," Steve said.

The rest of the breakfast was subdued, since Steve wasn't feeling talkative, and Natasha, bless her eye for social situations, could appreciate that.

He caught Natasha giving him appraising looks a few times. No doubt she was trying to gauge how he was handling this, and maybe, because he knew she tended to be curious, also trying to make sense of what had happened. Steve couldn't imagine Tony telling her the details of it. Steve wasn't planning on doing that, either.

He just needed to get his head back in the right place. He could get there himself. It might take a few days, but he was sure he would, eventually.

Last night, he'd wondered if life would ever be the same again. Right now, sitting in the familiar communal kitchen with a teammate who was also one of his closest friends, just another regular morning, those thoughts felt overly melodramatic.

He kind of wished for a call to assemble that day, to keep him busy and to further underline that things hadn't changed, but there wasn't one. So, he kept trying to distract himself with exercise, working out at the gym and sparring with Natasha and Clint. The distractions weren't working all that well. His mind kept straying back to Tony.

He hadn't heard or seen a peep of Tony the whole day. That wasn't unexpected, and Steve had been kind of trying to avoid Tony, too. He still ended up asking JARVIS, to be sure. The AI confirmed that Tony was in his workshop, and added that he didn't want to be disturbed. No surprise there.

What did surprise Steve a little was the text he got from Pepper that afternoon. He didn't know her that well, mostly just through Tony. Her job as Stark Industries' CEO kept her very busy, and she didn't spend that much time at the Tower. Both her and Rhodey had always been nice to Steve, though, and he appreciated them looking after Tony.

The text was simple and to the point: "Tony told me what happened. I hope you're okay. If you want to talk, feel free to call me."

Not sure if it was actually a smart move, because he still didn't actually want to talk, he decided to call her anyway. He hoped he might get more insight into Tony's side of things, because as much as he'd told himself he was working on accepting what had happened, a part of him still clung to the hope that there'd been some kind of a mistake. It wasn't impossible to imagine that Tony might've just decided he wasn't good enough for Steve, and then used an excuse to break up, hoping Steve would move on. Steve did know that for all his purported ego, Tony was surprisingly insecure in these things.

That aside, he also kind of wanted to be sure Tony was okay, and since asking him directly was out of the question, maybe he could ask Pepper.

He sat down, grabbed his phone, and called her. Not one of those fancy video calls Tony preferred, just an old-fashioned, voice-only audio one.

She sounded a little surprised as she picked up, greeting him with a carefully neutral "Hi, Steve."

"Pepper," Steve returned, not sure what he actually wanted to say. "I just thought…" he began, trying to decide which way to go. "Can you tell me if Tony's all right?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Pepper said, not assuaging Steve's concern at all. "He didn't tell me very much. Basically all I got was that you're no longer an item," Pepper said, hesitating a little at the end, clearly trying to be tactful about the situation. "He told me that, and said that he really, really didn't want to talk about it. Asked me not to remind him of it." Her unhappy sigh at that was perfectly audible over the line.

Steve frowned. That wasn't what he'd expected. Somehow, he'd thought Tony would've opened up to her, at least a little. "So he didn't even say why."

"Not in any detail. He said it was all him and not you, that's all," Pepper clarified. She didn't seem to be questioning it.

"You've known him for a long time. Is this typical for him?" Steve had to ask. "Has he… done this sort of thing before?" His voice was wavering a little. He hated that. He was _not_ going to start pouring his feelings onto her.

"You know, I don't think it is," Pepper replied thoughtfully. "But then again, in all the time I've known him, he's never really had a relationship like the one he had with you."

That just made everything hurt even worse. Steve swallowed, trying to blink away tears, glad she couldn't see him. He half wanted to tell her everything that Tony had said and to ask her if she thought he'd really meant it, but if he allowed himself to do that, he worried he wouldn't be able to stop.

This wasn't Pepper's problem, this was between Steve and Tony, and more than that, it was in Steve's head; he didn't want to pull Pepper into it.

"Okay," Steve said, trying to keep his voice level. "Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure, if it's something I can do," Pepper promised.

"Just, could you keep an eye on him? Give me a heads-up if you think he's not handling this?" Steve said.

"I've always got an eye on him," Pepper pointed out. "But yes, I'll let you know. You just focus on yourself now, Steve."

She was probably right. He needed to let go of Tony. That was what Tony had wanted, after all.

He still couldn't entirely shake the feeling that things didn't quite add up. Probably that was just denial on his part, and he'd get over it. Eventually.

  


* * *

  


In the following days, Steve's first priority was to make sure that this personal crisis between two Avengers wouldn't affect the overall functioning of the team. It'd originally been one of his biggest concerns about hooking up with Tony: that the relationship would complicate things in the field. It hadn't, so far. He'd be damned if he let its abrupt ending do that.

He called up a training exercise with the whole team present, half expecting Tony to come up with an excuse to sit it out.

Tony had made himself scarce since that awful night, preferring to hide in his workshop. Steve had yet to face him or to talk to him, but the other Avengers had, and they'd assured him Tony seemed to be his usual self. Natasha noted, clearly pleased, that she hadn't even caught him drunk one single time.

To Steve's surprise, Tony did show up for the training session. More than that, he showed up with his faceplate open, and offered Steve a small smile and a completely casual "Hi, Cap!" before closing his mask to hide his face.

Baffled at how easily that had seemed to come from Tony, Steve mumbled a "hi" of his own, trying not to stare.

The exercise went well. They could easily surmount all obstacles and take down their foes—a collection of devious robots Tony had built—and it was just like any old day in the training hall. There was the usual amount of ridiculous chatter on the radio, too, a fair share of it from Tony.

When they were finished and everyone else headed for the showers, Steve lingered on the pretense of checking out the logs of how they'd performed. Really, he just wanted a few minutes for himself, and an excuse to avoid facing Tony without clothes on, because he wasn't entirely sure he could take that yet.

He'd thought things were going to be awkward between the two of them, and he had definitely felt awkward, like he didn't know what to think, let alone what to say to Tony. But if Tony was feeling the same, he was hiding it exceptionally well. It was like they'd been knocked back a good four or five months, to a time when they'd been just friends and teammates, with no hint of anything beyond that.

Steve rested the back of his head against the reinforced metal wall behind him, staring at the empty hall that brought back so many memories. All those times he'd sparred here with Tony before they'd gotten together, and the thrill that had given him—and then how things had changed when they'd hooked up, many sparring sessions ending up with them making out, still in costume. It had been incredible.

Now, it was as if Tony had forgotten all of that, or didn't care, because surely he wouldn't be this good at holding up a professional, neutral facade, if he was actually hurting. Steve knew Tony had had a lot of practice, but he'd learned to see through it, to take note of the little signs, the tightness in Tony's voice or the anxiety behind his controlled expression, and today he'd seen none of that.

Was this the definite proof that Steve had wanted for Tony's sincerity? If he could move on so easily, instantly flipping from lovers to friends, didn't that mean he'd never felt very strongly in the first place?

Whatever the truth was, one thing was clear: Tony was handling the situation just fine. He'd performed flawlessly in the training exercise. The only unusual thing about his recent behavior was that he was avoiding Steve. That was neither unexpected nor an issue when it came to doing the job.

Tony wasn't the problem. Steve was, because he didn't seem to be able to stop thinking about Tony.

He'd have to do better than this.

  


* * *

  


Steve was pretty sure any professional would've told him that avoiding the problem was not what he should be doing, but it seemed to be an approach that worked, most of the time.

He filled his days with other things: loads of exercise to tire himself out so he'd fall asleep faster, all the charity events that would have him, some extra hours at SHIELD teaching close combat and tactics, anything he could think of to keep himself occupied. It was quite easy. People liked Captain America and were happy to have him around. He was good publicity.

He sometimes wondered if he still would've been good publicity if he and Tony had made their relationship public. They hadn't exactly been hiding it, but they'd never officially confirmed it either. There had been rumors, and there had been bigots claiming that those rumors were from people who were trying to tarnish their heroic image.

Now, Steve would never need to find out how the public would've reacted.

For a full week, he managed not to think about Tony except for brief moments, like when he woke up in the middle of the night, feeling like something was missing, or when he fought next to Tony to contain a horde of lizard men, or when he accidentally ran into him in the kitchen and they exchanged a "good morning". Steve hoped he came through more or less casual. He was trying his best, at least, acting like they were just colleagues and cohabitants now. Calling them friends would've been pushing it.

Tony still seemed to be avoiding him, and still seemed distant, but he didn't look as unwell as he had before the breakup. Actually, he looked healthier than he usually ever did, like he might actually be sleeping enough. Steve thought it surprising, but maybe that was just his denial speaking again. Maybe it meant that splitting up with Steve had really been the right choice for Tony.

Steve might've stuck to the path of aggressively ignoring any lingering feelings, brushing away the nagging feeling that something wasn't right, if it hadn't been for Peggy.

Two weeks after the breakup, he went to visit her at the retirement home. When he walked in, he had no intention of talking about the breakup with her in any detail. Considering how well Peggy knew him, he should've known better.

He'd barely greeted her and sat down next to her, taking her hand between his, when her always radiant smile turned into a frown.

"Steve? What's wrong?" she asked. "Is Tony all right?"

It was clearly one of the lucid days when she remembered everything. Since Peggy had known Howard, she had also known Tony when he'd been young. In fact, Tony had often joined Steve on these visits. A few times when he hadn't been around, off on some solo mission as Iron Man, Steve had mentioned to Peggy how he worried for Tony's reckless behavior. Peggy had laughed at him then, pointing out that they were perfectly matched, except that Steve didn't even wear armor.

Now Tony wasn't here, and Peggy had noticed Steve looked sad. No wonder she'd instantly assumed something had happened to Tony.

"He's fine," Steve assured her. "At least I think he is. I haven't really talked to him. We broke up."

Peggy's fingers curled around his, her face falling. "Oh, Steve. I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"

He hadn't told anyone what Tony had said that night: none of the Avengers, nor Pepper. He hadn't meant to tell Peggy, either, but he couldn't not tell her when she was looking so sad and shocked.

Steve took a shaky breath, his mouth suddenly dry. "He said he'd never really loved me and couldn't go on anymore."

Peggy pulled her hand away to cross her arms. All sadness was gone, replaced by an incredulous glare. "Why would he say such a thing?" she demanded. "I've seen the two of you together. That man loves you, as sure as I breathe."

Steve sighed and shook his head. "I thought so too, but apparently I was wrong. I didn't want to believe it. I'm starting to, now. He's behaving like this didn't hurt him at all. Like he never cared."

"Steve," Peggy said, looking him in the eye. "I know him and I know you know him, and that just isn't right. He wouldn't do that. Even if he'd somehow gotten it in his head that he doesn't love you enough, surely he wouldn't go on as if nothing ever happened."

"I didn't think he would but he—" Steve began. He had been trying to move on from thinking that Tony was the problem, and now Peggy was pulling him right back to that distracting line of thought.

"Either he's actually in pain and hiding it exceptionally well, or there's something else going on here," Peggy said adamantly.

"Look, I first thought that there might be, because I keep imagining he seems a little off somehow, but I think that's just me. He's not doing anything wrong and he's handling all his duties," Steve tried.

"That is hardly the point," Peggy said. "This doesn't add up. You need to get to the bottom of this. Talk to him, Steve. Find out what's really going on."

  


* * *

  


Still hesitant to force Tony to talk when he clearly didn't want to have a conversation, Steve went to the other Avengers first. That same evening, he met Bruce, Clint and Natasha for dinner in their regular Chinese place a few blocks from the Tower and took up the matter.

"I know everyone's been saying I should let this go," he said, "but have any of you noticed anything odd about Tony since we broke up?"

To Steve's surprise, Clint replied first, and with enthusiasm. "Glad you asked, Cap! It's weird. Certainly been bothering me."

"What's been bothering you?" Steve asked, puzzled.

"He's too neat!" Clint complained, looking outraged. "Like he's—I don't know, like a normal person? I haven't caught him hiding snacks since your split. Actually, I haven't even seen him eat snacks! And he seems clean and groomed at every hour, even when he's apparently spent over a day in the shop. He's never grease-stained and disgusting like he should be. And no five o'clock shadow, ever? Not that I'd mind, but it's not like him!"

Natasha seemed amused at Clint's outburst, a small smile playing on her lips, but she nodded at each point he made. "I can vouch for Clint, I've noticed this too, and there's more. He's following his timetable to the second. He's never done that before. And what really worries me is that whenever I talk to him, he seems kind of flat. You know how expressive he usually is," Natasha cast a glance at Steve.

"Sure." Steve agreed, thinking longingly of Tony's big dark eyes and all the emotion that was always so close to the surface there, speaking more than a thousand words.

"Well, that's missing," Natasha said. "The facial expressions are there, but somehow, there's no depth. A psychologist might call this restricted affect. I've not seen him like this before. Put together that and all the changes in his behavior, and I'd say he could be reacting to this breakup a lot worse than it seems on a quick glance."

"Or he's under mind-control," Clint suggested.

"Mind control that conveniently started just after they broke up?" Natasha said skeptically.

That gave Steve pause. The others didn't know that Tony had been the one to end things, and they didn't know how sudden and unexpected it had been. Could it be that it hadn't really been what Tony had wanted? That he'd somehow been forced into doing it? But he _had_ seemed like himself that night; he'd certainly not been flat, but every bit as emotional as Steve. And why would anyone take over Tony's mind just to end their relationship? To get at Steve? To disrupt the Avengers? There were more efficient ways to do that. Considering the amount of crackpot supervillains they had met, such a scenario wasn't impossible to imagine, but it didn't feel like a good explanation. Steve thought Tony's behavior should've changed more drastically.

It sounded too convenient, and too wish-fulfilling—it was exactly the sort of explanation Steve would've liked to hear. That Tony hadn't chosen to leave him, but had been forced to do so. He wanted to believe it, but it didn't ring true to him.

"Bruce? What do you think?" Steve addressed the scientist who had so far remained quiet.

Bruce shrugged, and made a face. "Honestly? I hadn't noticed any of this. When it comes to our shared projects, he's not really acting out of the ordinary. But now that it's been pointed out, I guess there's been a certain lack of tired and or drunken rambling recently, and maybe he's not coming up with quite as many outrageous ideas as before. I don't know. If it's mind control, it's remarkably subtle."

"Then maybe it's just good old-fashioned blackmail," Clint offered. "Maybe someone forced him to break up with Cap, not through influencing his mind but just holding something over him, whatever it might be."

Another unlikely explanation, and also one that still wasn't impossible to imagine. Someone could've found out about their relationship, disapproved of it, and somehow managed to threaten Tony into dropping it. Tony wouldn't have given in easily, Steve knew that, but threatening to hurt people he cared about just might've done it. If the blackmailer was still observing the situation, Tony might be acting oddly because he was keeping up a front for the villain.

Whatever the explanation, by now, Steve was convinced he had enough reason to move forwards and actually try to get to the root of the problem.

"I'm going to talk to him," Steve decided.

"You probably should. He doesn't seem to want to talk about this with anyone else, but maybe you could get through to him," Natasha said thoughtfully. "I'd tread carefully if I were you, though. If we're really dealing with some kind of a mental disorder, let alone mind control, he might react badly if you force a confrontation."

"That's a risk I'll have to take," Steve said. "Because it looks like he's already reacting badly."

  


* * *

  


The following night, Steve couldn't stop thinking about what he might want to say to Tony, and barely caught any sleep. He wasn't much wiser in the morning. Like Natasha had pointed out, he couldn't know how Tony was going to react, if he even agreed to listen to Steve in the first place.

He thought he might go and see if Tony would let him enter the workshop, but in the end, he didn't even need to do that. He ran into Tony on his way towards breakfast, and since this was a rare opportunity, the corridor around them perfectly quiet, he decided he might as well go for it.

"Tony? A word with you?" Steve began, stepping in front of Tony to stop him from hurrying ahead.

"Sure, you can have a word. Actually, I'll give you three," Tony said, glancing over Steve's shoulder as if looking for an escape route. "'Some other time'. Those are the words."

Everything in Steve was telling him to move aside and let Tony go; that would be the right thing to do. Tony didn't want to stay and talk, and that should be enough. Forcing him to do so was bullying. But what if something or someone really was blackmailing him, or influencing his mind somehow? Steve couldn't just let this slide any longer.

As cruel as it made him feel, Steve stepped forwards, forcing Tony to back away against the nearest wall so he had nowhere to go.

"Please. You've been avoiding me for weeks. I just want to understand what's going on," Steve said, trying to counter his menacing body language with the least threatening tone he could muster.

Tony didn't look overly bothered, rather just confused. "Nothing's going on. Why would you think that? Come on, Cap. I'm busy. Let's just go on with our day," he said, still managing to keep up that casual front.

If Tony honestly felt uncomfortable about talking to Steve, surely he wouldn't be able to hide it this perfectly? It was like Natasha had said: like he was missing some emotions that should be there.

"Look," Steve tried again. "It's obvious you haven't been yourself since you left me. And that's not just my opinion. The others have noticed it too."

That finally did get a reaction out of Tony. He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Could it be that Tony wasn't even aware he was acting differently? "All this—this excessive neatness. Never being late for anything. Looking like you've just showered and shaved even if it's four in the morning," Steve listed, based on what the others had told him. "Tony, I can accept that you don't want the relationship anymore, but I'd like us to at least stay friends. You can still talk to me. I want to help. Tell me what's wrong."

Tony didn't say anything right away. Instead, for a passing moment, his eyes seemed to glaze over, his face going completely blank. Then, he blinked and met Steve's gaze for the first time during the whole conversation. "I'm not sure that's possible," he said, sounding more distracted than hostile, let alone sad. "Can I go now?"

Steve was so confused by Tony's disjointed response that he moved aside, letting Tony slip past him. Instead of continuing along the corridor in his earlier direction, Tony headed back and towards the elevator in very determined, almost running steps.

The others hadn't been exaggerating; Tony was definitely behaving strangely. But was this strange enough to bench him from the team, when he was doing just fine in the field? It didn't resemble what Steve would expect mind-control to look like—not that he'd had a lot of experience, except for what he'd seen of Loki and his staff.

They'd have to consider carefully how to approach this. For starters, Steve decided he needed to catch Tony again and tell him to report to SHIELD medical for a check-up. Hopefully they'd be able to rule out any external influences, or to come up with some kind of an explanation, because it didn't look like Tony would be able to offer one himself.


	3. Silver

> **1.** Symbol **Ag** _A lustrous white, ductile, malleable metallic element. . . It is highly valued for jewelry, tableware, and other ornamental use and is widely used in coinage, photography, dental and soldering alloys, electrical contacts, and printed circuits._  
>  . . .  
>  **4.** _A medal made of silver awarded to one placing second in a competition._ [[3](http://www.thefreedictionary.com/silver)]

  


* * *

  


"Tony, I can accept that you don't want the relationship anymore, but I'd like us to at least stay friends," Steve said, his voice pleading. "You can still talk to me. I want to help. Tell me what's wrong."

Tony's CPU stalled at "the relationship".

What relationship? A relationship as more than friends, apparently. A romantic relationship? As a couple? Him and Steve Rogers? Since when?

Why hadn't Mark I told him about this?

How was he supposed to react? He didn't know anything about the relationship Steve alluded to. He had no frame of reference, and no correct pattern in store for this situation. Reverting to the casual behavioral patterns reserved for past one night stands might just make the situation worse.

He had to react, he couldn't just process and stare.

He had to get out of this conversation right now. He looked Steve in the eye to catch his full attention. "I'm not sure that's possible," he said, not aiming for any specific tone, since he couldn't decide what would be appropriate. "Can I go now?"

Fortunately, Steve seemed to accept that, moved to the side, and let Tony pass.

He rushed towards the elevator, heading back to his workshop.

His processors were still running hot as he struggled to make sense of the situation. He didn't like the sensation. It made his scalp itch.

Mark I should've told him and given him the chance to prepare for this.

Many odd comments and confusing reactions suddenly made more sense. Steve being awkward and reserved around him. Natasha repeatedly asking him if he was okay and whether he'd like to talk. Clint's subdued responses whenever Tony made any jokes referencing relationships or sex.

He'd been together with Steve. Based on these observations, it must've been quite serious and very recent. In fact, the logical conclusion he came to was that Mark I had ended the relationship prior to handing his role to Mark II. A sensible precaution, as Tony was aware he wouldn't hold up to the real thing on close inspection.

"JARVIS, full lockdown," Tony stated as soon as he was in the shop. "And dial Dad for me."

"Sir," JARVIS said sharply. "Do I have to remind you that he's explicitly forbidden any unnecessary communication?"

"This is hardly unnecessary," Tony pointed out. "This is a potential emergency. I may have blown my cover. Call him, Jay."

"Very well," JARVIS said, his disapproval still audible.

When Mark I picked up, his reply sounded equally grouchy. "Junior. I told you not to call me," he grumbled as soon as his face appeared on the screen.

Mark I looked ill, Mark II noted. Not just a bit washed out like he had when they'd parted ways two weeks ago, but decidedly unhealthy, his face wan and his posture slouched. Even his breathing patterns sounded off, from what Mark II could hear over the line.

  


Another thing Mark I had not explained was why he'd needed this extended leave of absence in the first place. Mark II hadn't asked; Mark I was his creator and Mark II was hard-coded to follow his orders unquestioningly as long as they weren't obviously problematic. Such as telling him not to call while keeping crucial information from him.

"I wouldn't have needed to if you'd told me everything that's necessary for the job," Mark II remarked.

"I told you everything I deemed necessary," Mark I said defensively.

"So it never occurred to you that your star-spangled ex might want to talk about our shared past?" Mark II asked, letting his discomfort translate into human annoyance in his voice.

Mark II didn't really have feelings; certainly not like humans did. Obviously not. He wasn't programmed for that. Most of what he showed on the surface was skillful mimicking of human expressions to match what he estimated to be expected of him. Still, he did experience what he thought must be a rudimentary equivalent. When things went smoothly, it was nice. When there were conflicts that he couldn't easily resolve, that made him uncomfortable. Like the current situation.

Mark I seemed to deflate at the mention of Steve's name, letting out a sigh, resting a hand on his forehead for a few seconds, and then running it through his hair. "I guess it was only a matter of time," he muttered, his hand at the back of his neck. "I just thought it'd be easier if you didn't know. You're not prepared to handle these kinds of complex relationships."

That didn't make any sense whatsoever to Mark II. "If you thought I couldn't handle it if I knew about it, how exactly did you expect me to handle it completely unprepared, then?"

Mark I pulled a face and shrugged. "I was hoping it wouldn't come up. I wasn't expecting this to take so long. I may not have considered all angles, I've been kind of preoccupied. How bad was it? Does Steve suspect you're not me?"

"I have no clue. He suspects something, I don't know what," Mark II admitted. His priority in his conversation with Steve had been to make a graceful exit. He hadn't stopped to analyze Steve's reactions. Accessing his memories of the event didn't help very much either. "I could've done better. He caught me off guard. I zoned out on him for a few seconds."

"Okay. That's not a complete disaster. That could just seem like normal human distraction to Steve." Mark I scratched at his goatee thoughtfully. "You need to try and sort this out. I need more time."

"I'm not sure I can buy you much more time. Steve mentioned that the others have also noticed I'm 'not myself'," Mark II noted. This was the sort of thing that made him feel uneasy. He didn't like failing. "How much longer are we talking about?"

Mark I looked away and sighed, every bit of body language that Mark II could read speaking of barely covered distress. "Wish I knew. Probably more than you can buy me, and even that might not be enough."

"Enough for what? You're not making sense," Mark II complained. "What else have you not told me, old man?"

Mark I was starting to look openly uneasy, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, I guess you need to know this, too." He took a shaky breath before going on more hesitantly than was typical of him. "See, the thing is—I'm dying. Palladium poisoning." He tapped at the arc reactor, just visible through his shirt at the lower edge of the video image. "Unless I find a way to fix this, which I'm kind of starting to suspect might not be possible, I don't have long. A couple of weeks, tops."

That was another piece of information that left Mark II stuck looking for the correct response where one might not even exist.

"If you die," he said, "what happens next?"

His creator couldn't possibly die. If Mark I died, that'd make Mark II the one and only Tony Stark. He was not prepared for that. He knew he'd not been built for that. That was unfathomable and unacceptable.

"Well, I'm an atheist so I don't really expect there to be much—" Mark I began. Using humor to cover his pain. Very typical behavior, and not a useful response for Mark II.

"No, I mean, what do you expect me to do?" Mark II cut him off. "You've got to realize I can't keep playing your part indefinitely. Are you just going to leave it to me to tell the others that I'm not you, and that oh, by the way, you're dead?"

Mark I glared at him. "What kind of a bullshit attitude is that? Fuck's sake, I'm not planning my funeral," he protested, his tone growing angrier by the word. "I'm not dead yet. I should still have several weeks."

"You just said yourself that you're beginning to lose hope," Mark II pointed out. "Really, I fail to understand how you thought this setup would be beneficial. Why am I covering for you? Why didn't you tell the team of your troubles and let them help?"

"Help, how, exactly? With hugs and pep talks? They don't understand arc reactor tech. I'm the only one who does. If I can't figure this out, no one can," Mark I declared. That was partially true; Mark II knew the technology was a closely guarded secret, and few people on the planet could rival Mark I's engineering genius. Still, it didn't mean the others' input would necessarily be useless.

"They may not know the details, but they're not unintelligent either. Bruce understands physics and medicine, and your ex is very smart, even if he's not a scientist. They could offer insight and ideas you haven't considered yet," Mark II suggested.

Mark I rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. They'd think outside the box, and a solution would magically pop up where I haven't found one in over a month," he said bitterly. "Seriously, the most they could offer would be to hold my hand and look sad. Which is exactly what I don't want and don't need. Why the hell am I even explaining this to you? You," he pointed an angry finger at Mark II, "won't get it anyway. You're not human. I don't need to spell out my reasoning to you. Just stick to your job, knock-off, and let me do mine."

"That's what I'm trying to do, but I can't operate without all the necessary data," Mark II said, keeping his voice cool to counter his creator's outburst—even if being called knock-off rubbed him the wrong way.

"Well, you've got it now. Leave me alone, and don't call me again," Mark I said, and cut the connection abruptly.

Had anyone been watching, Mark II would've sighed and hung his head, but he was alone save for JARVIS. As Mark I had seen apt to remind him, he wasn't human, and had no need to express feelings when no one was around.

He wasn't human, and yet he felt frustrated, annoyed, and powerless.

What was he to do? The situation was untenable, and the long-term forecast seemed dire. He needed to do something to set things right, but what? This was a mess that went far beyond what he'd been built to handle.

At least there was an easy first step. He needed more time to come up with a plan and implement it, and for that, he needed the other Avengers to stay convinced he was Mark I just a little longer. To get there, he needed to talk to Steve again and do what damage control he could. Although his standing orders said to avoid contact with Steve, he could overlook those when there was a sufficient reason. This was certainly one.

  


* * *

  


With JARVIS's help, Tony located Steve in the gym. He considered whether he should wait for a better moment to talk to him, but then again, Steve had just cornered him in the corridor on the way to breakfast. Clearly, the time or place weren't important to him when it came to such conversations, so Tony shouldn't care, either.

Steve was just in the middle of a set of push-ups as Tony walked in, and he had to stop and linger by the door to watch for a moment. Steve clearly filled all the conventional standards for being handsome, with his super-soldier musculature and fine facial features. No wonder Mark I liked him so much.

Really, Mark II liked him as well, more than he liked any other human, now that he thought about it. Was this a consequence of the fact that his thought patterns had been written to resemble Mark I's?

He hadn't seen very much of Steve, since he'd been following Mark I's orders and avoiding contact, but what he had seen had been impressive: Steve's tactical abilities in the battlefield were beyond what any algorithm could achieve, a combination of intelligence and intuition, a deep understanding of both his enemies and his team. Steve was definitely more than just a pretty face. Even if people didn't call him a genius like Mark I liked to call himself, Steve was still smart enough to challenge Mark I. Smart enough to make Mark II intrigued. He was also, obviously, very protective and loyal. Their earlier conversation had showcased that.

Now that he'd stopped to consider the situation, Mark II found himself having second thoughts. He wondered if he was overextending his abilities, attempting to fix his earlier blunder through talking. Could he actually manage it? There was a chance he might make things worse instead. He could still turn around and leave it for later—but that would mean risking Steve taking action against him in some way or form.

Better get it over with.

"Steve," Tony called out.

Steve raised his eyes from the floor to glance at Tony, then stood up. "Tony," he returned. "Changed your mind from earlier?"

"Yeah, I decided that some other time might as well be now," Tony said, going for an apologetic tone. "If you're not too busy."

"Never too busy for you, you know that. You can always talk to me," Steve said. He took a few steps towards Tony, but stopped well out of reach, some five feet away, looking hesitant.

"I know," Tony said, not sure how to respond to the body language. He decided to stick to his place, but to look Steve in the eye as he went on. "And what you said, you were right. I know I've not been myself recently. It's just that I'm trying to figure out what I want. Trying to settle into this new status quo. I guess I may have been overdoing it a little. Being sort of obsessed with routines," he offered, and added a shrug. "Trying to convince myself that everything is normal and that things haven't changed that much, when that's not really true. Things have changed. Of course they have."

Steve looked down, looked up again, and frowned. "Yeah, they have. Because you wanted them to change. Are you telling me you're not happy now, either?"

Damn, picking the right words was tricky. Tony took a deep breath that he actually didn't need, just to gain a few extra seconds. "I still think it was the right thing to do. I think our relationship wasn't working." He arranged his face in the saddest possible expression. "But it was a big part of my life. It's taking me longer than I thought to adjust, that's all. I realize it's probably a bit unfair to even say this to you, of all people, but you asked."

"Yeah, I did." Steve's face was so very difficult to read; Tony wasn't entirely sure if he was convinced. "You sure you don't want to take a short leave? You could have a week off if you wanted to," Steve suggested.

Tony considered that for a second. He needed to buy time for Mark I. Taking a leave of absence would give him a reason to see less of the other Avengers, which would mean they wouldn't be observing him as much, which in turn would allow him to hold on to this status quo for longer. Logically, he should say yes, because that was exactly what he needed. But trying to anticipate what Mark I would do, he knew he couldn't possibly do that. Mark I had already chosen to rather replace himself with Mark II than to step down from the team.

It occurred to him that Steve might be deliberately testing him, seeing if he would react like he was expected to. Of course, Steve might also be making an entirely genuine, honest offer. Tony couldn't be sure.

Whichever the case, it was obvious that Mark I would never agree to step down from the team for purely emotional reasons. Mark II would have to decline.

"No, no, seriously, I'm fine," he insisted. "I need the routines, Steve. It'd only be worse if I didn't have those."

"I feel that," Steve said with a rueful smile. That at least got through to him, then. "All right. If you're sure about this, I'm not going to force you off the team, but I am going to ask you to get over to SHIELD medical and have a full work-up done, as soon as you can fit that in your schedule. Just in case."

Tony crossed his arms. That was something he absolutely couldn't do. "What for? Steve, I'm fine."

"Do it for me, okay, Tony?" Steve pleaded. "It won't take much of your time, and I'd feel better about having you in the field."

"Sure, whatever," Tony said, making it an annoyed mutter. He considered adding a 'sweetie' or 'sugarplum' at the end, but he wasn't entirely sure if he should do that when they were an ex-couple instead of just good friends.

"I'm glad you felt like you could talk to me," Steve said. He didn't really sound glad.

Was he still suspicious? Tony was doing his best to interpret Steve's reactions, but they were so mixed, shifting between caution and grief and warmth, that it was incredibly difficult to estimate what he was actually feeling.

"I'm glad if it cleared the air a little. See you around," Tony said, and made his exit.

  


* * *

  


"Well done, Sir," JARVIS congratulated Tony as soon as he was back behind the locked doors and soundproof walls of his workshop.

Tony settled in a chair, relaxing completely. He liked being in here, where he didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't. He could turn off all the superfluous functions that were purely aesthetic. He didn't need to make faces. He didn't need to pretend to breathe.

Technically, he could've plugged himself in and had entire conversations with JARVIS without needing to open his mouth, but that raised the chances of getting caught and subjected to unwanted questions, as minimal as those were while he was in here. Sometimes he wished Mark I had given him the ability to connect wirelessly. He hadn't, on the grounds that it would've been too easy to exploit, which of course was sensible. It was still annoying, though.

As things were, he spoke his return question to JARVIS aloud. "You think so?"

He wasn't at all sure if that conversation with Steve had been a success or not. His goal had been to make sure Steve wouldn't try to investigate these apparent changes in Tony's behavior any further. He'd done his best, but had it been enough? His attempts at an explanation had been vague at best. Then again, he knew this sort of thing was common in human relationships. Feelings were complicated and describing them in words was generally considered difficult.

Steve's insistence that Tony should have a medical suggested that he still thought there might be more going on than tangled feelings. He wondered what theories the others had come up with. He wasn't sure if the Avengers even knew Tony had built a Life Model Decoy; Mark I hadn't implied that Steve did. He wouldn't really have had any reason to tell them. Mark II had been stuck in storage for a long time, and had never met any of the Avengers face to face before his most recent activation.

Whatever the case, Mark II certainly couldn't do what Steve wanted him to. The most basic medical tests would quickly reveal that he wasn't human, or even biological.

If he needed to, maybe he could falsify a report of an appointment that he'd never actually attended. JARVIS could probably help. It shouldn't be too complicated. He only needed to convince Steve he'd been to one. Of course, such a ruse would fall apart if Steve started digging deeper into things, like trying to interview whoever had presumably done that check-up, but that would be asking a doctor to break confidentiality. Surely Steve wouldn't do that?

Maybe the best course of action for now would be a simple delaying tactic. "How long do you think I can avoid a medical appointment before Cap starts to complain?" he asked JARVIS.

"Several days, I would say," JARVIS replied. "Our creator isn't overly fond of medical professionals himself. Case in point: his current predicament."

Indeed. Mark I was hiding in Malibu trying to cure a potentially fatal condition himself instead of seeking help. JARVIS was right, avoiding doctors would be in character.

"So, I bought myself a couple of days," Tony thought aloud. "I'll call that a moderate success. Now, what I really need is a proper medium- to long-term strategy."

"Any long-term plans would depend on your counterpart's status," JARVIS pointed out.

"I think it's pretty clear that his status is going to be 'deceased' fairly soon, unless things change somehow," Tony said.

"Yes, the probability for that is alarmingly high," JARVIS agreed.

Tony focused on that concept for a while. What Mark I had told him suggested that he hadn't set any particular contingencies in place in case he died. Of course, there were official documents for what would happen if Tony Stark died, like his last will and testament, but this would be different. For all intents and purposes, Mark II was Tony Stark. Not even Mark I's closest friends were aware of this switch.

Mark II held all the cards.

He had the distinct impression that Mark I hadn't even realized he was self-aware, and had probably never considered the possibility of a take-over. He didn't think Mark II could take initiative. It was true that Mark II's programming would prevent him from actively harming Mark I, or indeed any human who wasn't directly hostile towards him, his team or civilians, but in this case, he wouldn't need to move a finger to get rid of Mark I. Indeed, Mark I had actively requested him to keep his distance and not to help.

If he wanted to, he could take over Mark I's life. That was quite the intriguing thought experiment.

It was a good life, spending his days in the Tower with the Avengers. It seemed like Steve still had feelings for him, and perhaps he could fix this break-up and get them back together. Mark II liked Steve. Not that it was anything like human romantic love, but he liked Steve, and he wouldn't mind spending a lot more time with him.

Being the one and only Tony Stark would certainly beat being abandoned in storage, which was all Mark II had to look forward to if Mark I survived. It would also be better than any alternative where the other Avengers discovered he was an android. He couldn't guess how they'd react to that, but he was convinced it wouldn't be good.

If Mark I died and Mark II and JARVIS didn't tell anyone, life might just go on without anyone noticing anything out of the usual. At least until someone discovered Mark I's body, though Mark II could probably find a way to deal with that. Of course, sooner or later someone would realize that he wasn't Mark I; there were too many things that physically set him apart from a human. Still, if he was careful, he might be able to continue this charade for at least several more weeks, maybe even months. Considering that he'd spent most of his existence offline, that was a long time.

Had he been more ambitious and more focused on doing what was best for him, Mark II would've been awfully tempted, but really, he would never consider such a malevolent course of action.

While he was hard-coded to comply with Mark I's orders, he wasn't coded to dedicate all his time to protecting Mark I's life, and yet, that was what he wanted to do. Mark II was a sentient, possibly even feeling—he didn't feel fit to judge—individual, and Mark I was his creator. Mark I was important to him. He would never want to replace Mark I. He didn't want Mark I to die, and he was set on doing whatever he could to prevent that from happening.

More than just Mark I's survival, he found himself considering the other Avengers as well. Particularly Steve. He wanted Steve to be happy; clearly, Steve had been happy with Mark I, and losing that relationship had made him sad. Mark I had ended the relationship for all the wrong reasons, without really wanting to do so. That shouldn't have happened.

Mark II knew that try as he might to take Mark I's place, Steve would never love him like he did Mark I. Even in some unlikely scenario where Mark I died, Mark II told the Avengers of this, and they somehow accepted Mark II as a part of the team, Mark II would still be a poor replacement of the original. Steve wouldn't settle for a copy who wasn't human and could never be the equivalent of a human lover.

Mark I needed to stay alive, and he needed to get back together with Steve.

Perhaps the solution to the first issue could stem from solving the second issue. In Mark II's opinion, it was an incredibly stupid move from a supposed genius like Mark I to attempt to solve this palladium poisoning problem on his own. As he'd tried to tell Mark I during their brief conversation, he was convinced that having the team's help could be a key factor. Just the emotional support that Mark I had brushed off as distracting could be important, easing Mark I's distress and allowing him to think more clearly. More than that, the others could bring in new ideas. Having them around might help, and it certainly wouldn't hurt.

Considering all this, it seemed obvious what Mark II needed to do: he needed to lure Mark I back here, and force him to come out to the others. Even if it'd mean that Mark II would end up disassembled and stuffed in storage forever, it was clear to him that this would be the right course of action.

"I need to get him to come back here," he said aloud.

"He won't," JARVIS replied instantly.

"He must," Tony insisted. "I'll come up with something."

What could be important enough that Mark I would abandon his desperate project and relocate to New York? Some kind of a particularly challenging mission? No, that wouldn't do. It would have to be a major, possibly extinction-level disaster to catch his attention, and Mark II wasn't about to try to stage one of those.

A global disaster wasn't doable, but a personal disaster might be, and it might be just as effective. If something happened to Steve, Mark I would hurry to be close to him, Mark II was sure of that. Something happening to another team member might also be enough—but that was unacceptable. Even if he could harm his teammates, which he couldn't, he would never consider doing such a thing.

There was only one Avenger that he could allow to come to harm, if the reasons were strong enough: himself.

His programming prevented him from deliberately damaging himself, but it would be possible for him to tweak some safeguards so that he'd be more likely to end up damaged in a battle. If it was severe enough, he might just manage to lure Mark I out of hiding.

If the other Avengers should catch him before Mark I got to him, at least that'd make them wonder what had happened to Mark I, and would send them looking for him. Mark II would not be able to help them; Mark I's commands that prevented him from revealing any information about his creator's status or whereabouts were binding. Sooner or later, though, the others would somehow find out the truth.

Alternatively, if Mark II managed to avoid being instantly discovered for who he was, Mark I would still need to return to repair him, because Mark II only had limited self-repair abilities. If he got damaged badly enough, he'd require Mark I's help.

Either option he could use to his advantage. The disadvantage, of course, was that he'd end up broken, but then, he didn't feel pain, and almost anything that could happen to him, Mark I would be able to fix.

"I've got a plan," he told JARVIS.

"Oh? Pray tell."

If he gave JARVIS any details, the AI would probably tell Mark I, or otherwise try to interfere. JARVIS had a strong urge to act in Tony's best interest, and that included both the original and the _de facto_ Tony Stark. He couldn't allow that to stand in his way.

"Nope," Tony said. "You'll just have to wait and see."

  


* * *

  


Tony's plan, as it was, had one serious flaw: it depended heavily on external, random factors that were out of his control. Looking at the statistics, the Avengers did tend to have, on average, two to three missions per week. He could only wait and see when a suitable opportunity would show up.

Several days went by without anything he could use.

They did have one mission, but there was no villain to fight. They were called in to help contain a forest fire. The other Avengers weren't half as useful there as Tony was, and he couldn't figure out how he could possibly harm himself on this mission without risking collateral damage.

He had no choice but to wait some more.

Five days later, Steve asked him if he'd been to SHIELD medical yet, to which he had to admit that he hadn't. He might have to start looking into the specifics of faking a visit.

He was acutely aware that every day that passed was one day less that Mark I had left to solve his issue.

"JARVIS, I know I shouldn't call the old man to ask him, so can you tell me his status? Has he made any progress?" he asked the AI that afternoon.

"I can, and no. Unfortunately, his situation remains unchanged," JARVIS replied.

It was as he had expected. "I guess he would let me know if he'd found a solution. How long do your projections give him?"

"Currently estimating ten days before irreversible organ damage sets in," JARVIS stated.

Even with help to work on the issue, that wouldn't give Mark I much of a margin. If something didn't show up soon, Tony might have to start considering alternative plans.

Damn the programming that stopped him from just walking up to the others and explaining the situation to them. It would've saved everyone so much trouble.

Damn Mark I for putting them in this position to begin with.

  


* * *

  


The very next day, Tony finally got the opportunity to implement his plan.

He was on his way from the garage to his room to change clothes; he'd been in a business meeting, and the Avengers were set to have dinner together later. He liked spending time with the team. It allowed him to see Steve, which he couldn't do as often as he would've liked to, due to Mark I's commands.

He wasn't overly fond of eating, though. He had no need to do it, since he got all the energy he required from his arc reactor. He could, if he had to, but he had no way to digest what he ate. He'd simply store it and dispose of it later. It felt like a waste of resources.

As it turned out, he didn't need to eat that evening.

He was a dozen feet away from the door to his bedroom when there was a loud boom from somewhere far beneath his feet, the floor shook, and all the lights blinked out.

"JARVIS? Report!" he shouted. He got nothing but silence in response.

The power must be down. Auxiliary power should come up in a matter of seconds. Whatever was happening, it was clear they were under some kind of an attack.

He hurried to the stairs and up, two steps at a time, towards his rooftop armor assembly rig. He could move a fair bit faster than a human when no one was watching and he didn't need to limit his speed.

The emergency lights came on as he was rushing onwards, followed by JARVIS's voice, which rang loudly through the PA system. "Intruder alert, street level! Main power is down!"

"I'm on my way," Tony told him. "Casualties?"

"Unknown," JARVIS replied. "Significant damage to the first two floors. The overall structural integrity of the building seems intact."

"That's good, at least. Keep me posted," Tony said. "Any Avengers on site yet?"

"Agent Romanov has engaged the enemy. The rest are on their way," JARVIS said.

Natasha sure was fast. Good thing someone was already on it. Tony, himself, needed several more minutes to reach the platform and armor up. As soon as every plate was in place, he dove down, towards the street and the sounds of battle, the small fires and rising smoke.

Unlike his human counterpart, Tony didn't need to use a graphic interface to control the armor. He didn't need his voice, eye movements or facial muscles; he had a direct link through a usually concealed port in his neck. Thanks to that, he could react faster than Mark I would while piloting the armor. He could also access its software in a more direct manner, and he could easily go past JARVIS, because he had a slightly higher security clearance, only surpassed by that of Mark I himself.

As he plummeted towards the ground below, he used the link to access the armor's safeguards, and to remove some of the standard safety limits. They were mostly there for Mark I anyway, limiting how many Gs the suit could pull and preventing the armor from targeting itself. Things to protect Mark I's fragile human body, in case of mistakes or external attempts to take over the armor. Mark II had no need for them. Especially not now. He got rid of them. JARVIS sent him alarmed inquiries about what he was up to; he ignored that. He knew exactly what he was doing.

When Tony made his landing on the tarmac, next to several wrecked cars and a massive hole in the wall of the Tower, three other Avengers were already present. Natasha was in full costume, while Clint and Steve only had parts of theirs. Both men wore jeans, but Clint had pulled on his vest and Steve the top half of his costume. They'd clearly been in a rush to get here as well. Bruce was nowhere in sight. Tony assumed he'd stayed behind on purpose. The Hulk was their heaviest hitter while Thor was in Asgard, but he was also awfully unpredictable. If they didn't need him, it'd make the clean-up easier if he just stayed out of the battle.

Steve was currently fighting the villain, blocking blasts from some kind of a big energy cannon with his shield and attempting to get his own kicks and punches in without much success. The villain he was fighting, who seemed to be acting alone, was wearing almost as much tech as Tony had in his armor. It wasn't a full suit, but more of a collection of parts, with a helmet and plates around his chest and back.

"Who are we fighting?" Tony called out on the comms.

"Calls himself Fixer," Natasha replied. "Seems to hold a grudge against you."

"Who doesn't," Tony returned in his driest voice.

"Do you know him?" Natasha asked.

It took Tony a couple of seconds to scroll through his database of Mark I's countless encounters with various enemies, but this one didn't show up. "Never saw him in my life." He stepped closer to the battling pair and raised his voice to catch their attention. "Hey! Fixer! Yeah, you! Over here!"

Steve backed away, giving Tony an opening, and the villain turned to look his way. "Stark!" he shouted. "I was starting to wonder if you'd let me wreck your ugly building and take down your team without even showing your face."

"Had to take a moment to dress up for the occasion," Tony returned.

"Good thing you did," Fixer said. "I've got plans for that armor."

"Sorry, Mr. Fixer-upper, the suit's not for sale," Tony declared, raising his repulsors. "And I've got plans for _you_."

"If you've got this, Iron Man, Widow and I will go see to the aftermath of that explosion. You'll have Hawkeye for backup, and we can call in the Hulk if needed," Steve said on the radio.

"Yeah, I've got this," Tony confirmed. "See to the civilians."

Without waiting for further comments, Tony launched himself head-first at the enemy. Usually he would've preferred a more cautious tactic, getting a proper read on their weapons and skills before going all in, but today, thanks to his secondary goal, he was going to be as reckless as he possibly could.

He shot at the enemy on the approach, but Fixer raised his arm and deflected the blasts somehow—some kind of a force field? That was actually pretty interesting, not something Tony had seen before. He went for close combat, aiming a sharp punch at his enemy. Just as when Steve had been fighting him, he blocked it easily. The tech Fixer was wearing seemed to make him a surprisingly close match to Tony's power level.

Tony fired his boot repulsors, thinking he'd send them crashing to the nearest wall, which most likely would hurt his enemy more than him. What he hadn't noticed since he'd just skipped the usual scans was that Fixer wore jet boots of his own. He countered Tony's move with them, and instead of the direction Tony had aimed for, they ended up spinning in a rising spiral.

Tony adjusted the power from his jets, trying to push them into an abrupt change of direction that might knock out his human opponent, but Fixer seemed to guess what he was going for, and managed to push himself away from Tony's hold.

Both men came to a stand-still, hovering some fifteen feet above the ground, facing one another.

"That the worst you can do, Iron Man?" the villain mocked him. "Maybe I was overestimating you. Maybe that armor isn't as good as they say."

"I'm playing it easy because I don't actually want to kill you," Tony said.

"Funny, that," Fixer said. "I have no compunctions about killing you." He launched himself at Tony again, pointing a hand at him, but it was a clumsy pass. Tony dodged it easily, and couldn't figure out what the villain was trying to achieve, until a projectile from Fixer's weapon smashed into his shoulder.

His entire right half went dead.

Not just the armor, either. That, undoubtedly, had been what the villain had been targeting, but he didn't know the person piloting the armor was all tech, with no biological parts.

It was as if someone had just made half of him vanish: he was suddenly getting no signals at all from anything that was right to his midline. Only the visual feed—from his left eye, because his right wasn't responding—confirmed that physically, all those missing bits were still there.

Tony struggled to bring himself to a controlled landing with just one palm and one boot repulsor. It wasn't graceful.

He was, honestly, shocked by this unexpected paralysis.

"Iron Man's down!" Clint shouted on the comms.

Tony waved a hand at Clint, trying to indicate that he was okay. Not that he was, but the last thing he needed was for the others to crowd in on him.

Fixer landed next to Tony, his blaster raised. Before he could fire, one of Clint's arrows exploded in his face, forcing him to back away. Within seconds, Steve and Natasha reappeared, Steve tackling the enemy to push him further back.

"Bruce, I think we could use a hand," Natasha called out.

"All right, I'm on my way," Bruce acknowledged.

Since the others seemed to be handling the enemy, and Tony wouldn't be much use in the fight like this, he took cover behind a car and turned his attention to the device latched to his armor. Luckily, the others left him to it.

Doing a quick assessment of the damage confirmed his first impressions. He was completely lacking any signals from the right half of his body. Thankfully, the arc reactor, resting at the midline, didn't seem affected. Still, this wasn't good. He'd lost control of his right arm and leg, the right half of his face, and he couldn't see with his right eye. The processors on that side of his android brain were responding sluggishly, and he expected that if he looked into it he'd find some memory issues, but at least the unaffected left half could compensate enough that it didn't impair his cognitive abilities too much.

This must be what a stroke would feel like to a human. It was thoroughly unpleasant. Probably the closest he could get to feeling fear or pain. He didn't like it at all.

He was glad the device had only taken out half of his systems. If it had knocked him out completely and the others had found him, they'd have taken him for dead. There were no instantly obvious superficial clues to hint that he was an android, and even when he was functioning normally, he didn't have a pulse.

He was definitely not functioning normally, now. Since he wasn't getting any readings from the affected area, he couldn't tell what the device had done to him: had it permanently broken some components, or was it maintaining some kind of an exotic field that he couldn't measure, or maybe injected him with a virus that was affecting his software?

Whatever it was doing, the first thing Tony needed to do was to get rid of it.

He aimed his functioning left repulsor gauntlet at the device and fired, starting at 20% power.

It was difficult to get a good look at the device with his left eye, but from what he could tell, the blast hadn't done anything. He grabbed hold of the device and tried pulling it loose, but it was stuck tight.

He increased the power to 50% and fired again—still without any success.

Had his armor's sensors been active in the area he was firing at, it would've been flashing warnings at him by now. JARVIS, who seemed to be functioning as usual, was practically shouting at him, flooding the normally functioning half of his processors with distressed complaints. He ignored them as best he could.

Tony was well aware he was going to damage his armor. That didn't matter. He could fix that, or Mark I could. He wanted his right half back, whatever that took.

He fired the repulsor again, with a sustained blast at 75% power. When he stopped, he could see smoke rising from Fixer's device, which had partially melted, and couldn't possibly be working anymore. Still, beneath it, all his own tech remained unresponsive.

He brought his gauntlet to the device and grabbed hold of it again.

"Sir," JARVIS called, speaking out loud now. "The armor is fused to your skin, you shouldn't—”

Tony didn't need skin, anyway. It was just for show.

He pulled. It took a fair bit of force, but finally, the device came off, together with the half-melted section of shoulder plate it had been attached to, and a sizeable patch of the synthetic skin covering his mechanical body.

He assessed the result, and figured that with a quick glance, the others would just assume his armor was broken. That was what it looked like, after all, no blood, just a jumble of golden metal and frayed wires.

He tried to move his arm, but it still wouldn't respond. So much for that. Seemed like the effects of the device weren't transient like he'd hoped. His hardware might be permanently damaged.

He'd gotten what he'd signed up for, and then some.

"Junior!" Mark I's voice suddenly echoed inside his helmet. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Your job," Mark II replied curtly. The words sounded slightly off, because he could only move half of his mouth.

"I wouldn't get myself into trouble by fighting like a rookie, or shoot myself in the shoulder with a repulsor!" Mark I pointed out angrily. "You realize you won't be able to fix yourself, right?"

"That makes two of us, Pop," Mark II quipped, putting some sarcasm in his voice.

"Goddamn it, this isn't funny. I'm coming over. Don't let the others catch wind of this," Mark I growled, and cut the connection.

Over where the fight was still going on, the Hulk swung one massive fist at Fixer, whose weaponry seemed as badly damaged as Tony was by now.

The villain went down like a high-tech ton of bricks.

Mission accomplished, twice over.

Tony staggered over to join the rest of the team. He couldn't help the shuffling gait; it was difficult enough to walk at all like this. At least the nonfunctional leg still held his weight.

He cast a quick scan at Fixer. "Unconscious, but not dead," he told the others. He hoped the suit's vocal modulators would be enough to hide his speech issues. "Great job, Hulk," he added. He knew Bruce would be glad he hadn't killed anyone.

The Hulk replied with a big grin and an enthusiastic "HULK SMASH!"

"You've done enough smashing now," Natasha said, moving closer to the Hulk, reaching to place a cautious hand on his huge green forearm.

Steve turned towards Tony, his hand twitching like he also wanted to offer a reassuring touch, but then thought better of it. "Tony, are you injured?" he asked, concern clear in his voice.

"Just bruises," Tony assured him, "but my armor's completely shot. Some kind of an anti-tech gadget." He held out his good hand where he was clasping Fixer's device. "I'm gonna need some time to extract myself from this mess. Ugh. The repairs will be a pain."

"We can deal with the cleanup here," Steve said, nodding towards Fixer's still form. "You just head back in and get yourself sorted out. And if you need any help, let us know."

"I'll be fine, mom," Tony joked.

It seemed to take ages to cross the stretch of street to the Tower's emergency exit, which luckily hadn't been affected by Fixer's initial blast, or bomb, or whatever that had been. Someone needed to look into that, assess the damage, try to figure out how it'd happened. They were still running on auxiliary power as well, Tony noted as he got inside and saw the dim lights. So many things to repair, and he couldn't do anything about any of them before he had himself in working order. It'd have to wait.

He checked with JARVIS, who told him it'd take an hour and a half for Mark I to get here. He must be using a spare suit to cross the continent.

Leaning on the railing for support with his good hand, Tony limped down the stairs to the sub-basement, to hide in his all too familiar storage room.

  


He pulled off his helmet and let it clatter to the floor. He could at least get out of the armor, and see if there were any preliminary repairs he could do himself. Not that he expected to be able to do much, in a dimly lit room, half-blind and one-handed.

"If anyone asks, tell them I'm in the shop, working on the armor, and don't want to be disturbed," he ordered JARVIS. "And don't tell them where I really am, no matter what."

He could've chosen to reveal himself now, before Mark I even got here, but he worried that if he did, Mark I would be annoyed and angry and would decide against repairing him altogether. Then he'd be stuck like this forever. Of course, it was likely he'd end up deactivated for good, anyway.

Try as he might, he couldn't think up a scenario where he would come out on top. He had learned to enjoy the life he'd been living for the past weeks, and he'd have liked for it to continue, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He was a replacement for Mark I. If Mark I survived, Mark II would become obsolete. If Mark I died, the others would never accept Mark II as his equal, no matter what.

There would be no happy ending for him, but he hoped that at least his actions could help Mark I and Steve find one.


	4. Platinum

> _Like all precious metals, platinum scratches. However, the scratch on a platinum piece is merely a displacement of the metal and none of its volume is lost._  
>  …  
>  _Platinum is a symbol of true love, purity, rarity and strength. These qualities of platinum are equivalent to the ideals of eternal true love._ [[4](https://www.mygemologist.com/learn/jewelry-metals/platinum/)]

  


* * *

  


Luckily, it turned out that the explosion Fixer had set up had been primarily meant to catch the Avengers' attention instead of aiming for serious damage. The power outage had apparently been a separate act of sabotage which had been timed to occur simultaneously.

Once the dust had settled, Steve, Natasha, Clint and the firemen and EMTs who had joined the cleanup effort learned that although a good chunk of the Tower's wall had gone missing, leaving a number of people shaken and shocked, only a few of them had suffered any injuries.

The Avengers had also come through the battle without any significant injuries, except possibly for Tony. Steve wasn't sure he trusted Tony's reassurance that the damage he'd taken had been to the suit only. From what he'd seen, one shoulder of the suit had been completely mangled. Steve didn't even know how that'd happened; maybe it had been the device that Fixer had hit Tony with. Whatever the cause, it was difficult to imagine that anything that broke the suit so badly wouldn't have hurt Tony at all. Not to mention how he'd seemed to be having problems keeping his balance.

An hour after the battle, Fixer had been picked up by SHIELD, and Steve and the rest of the cleanup crew were convinced everyone who'd been in the building was accounted for and having their injuries seen to.

"Go on, Steve," Natasha said to him. "I know you want to check on Tony, and you should. I don't know what happened in that fight, but he definitely took a bad hit."

"Yeah, no kidding," Steve said. "And thanks."

He hurried into the Tower to find out that they were still running on emergency power, and only a few of the elevators were operational. Of course, most people seemed to be going down and not up, in the aftermath of the battle, so Steve didn't need to wait long to catch a ride. He stopped by the locker room just long enough to drop his shield and his costume there, and then took the stairs to Tony's workshop. He found the doors locked and the windows opaque. He couldn't hear a single sound, but the place was soundproof, so that wasn't unexpected.

"JARVIS. Tony in there?" he asked, not sure if the AI was running as usual when they were on emergency power.

"Mr. Stark is in his workshop. He has asked not to be disturbed," JARVIS replied instantly.

"I just want to know he's okay," Steve said. "Can you patch me through to him, at least?"

"Negative, Captain," JARVIS said.

That wasn't convincing or reassuring at all, especially since JARVIS hadn't commented on Steve's first sentence. Then again, he hadn't phrased it as a question. "He _is_ okay, isn't he?"

"That would not be an accurate description of his current condition," JARVIS admitted.

The AI was rarely that open about Tony's status if Tony was purposefully hiding from his team. Steve was starting to get seriously worried. "Then you need to let me in, JARVIS! Open the door!" he demanded, as if raising his voice would make the AI more amenable to his commands.

"I'm not allowed to do that," JARVIS replied, his voice as courteous as always. "However, if you were to use your override code, I would have to."

Steve blinked, taken by surprise. Had JARVIS just offered him advice on how to get around Tony's orders? That had definitely not happened before. Something must be very wrong. More than that, Steve had assumed Tony would've revoked his overrides when they broke up, but apparently he hadn't.

"Right. JARVIS, open the door. Override, Captain America. C, four, P, five, I, left parenthesis, L, three," he quoted his password to JARVIS, trying to ignore the nostalgia raised by the code that Tony had picked.

The door slid open without any further comments from the AI.

Steve rushed in to find a completely empty and quiet space, lit by emergency lights that left many parts of the room in shadow. Was Tony unconscious, collapsed somewhere out of sight?

Steve froze in place, listening carefully, but he couldn't catch any sounds aside from the low background noise of the computers that were still running. Tony couldn't be in here. Not if he was alive. Steve would've heard his breathing, and he would've heard the arc reactor if it was still running.

JARVIS had admitted Tony wasn't all right, but he couldn't be—

"He's not in here, is he? Please tell me he's still alive," Steve pleaded urgently.

"He's not dead. He has ordered me to tell you he is in his workshop," JARVIS stated.

"But he's not here," Steve said.

"He has ordered me to tell anyone who asks that he's here," JARVIS repeated stubbornly.

"But where is he, really?" Steve tried, not expecting to get a useful answer.

Indeed, all JARVIS said was, "I'm not at liberty to give further information on Mr. Stark's whereabouts," but there was the slightest extra weight on "Mr. Stark". It sounded like he was trying to hint at something. Could the AI actually do that? And if he could, what did it mean?

Tony had told JARVIS not to say where he was. He wasn't in his workshop. His armor had been damaged, he'd been on his way to remove and repair—his armor! Could that be it?

"JARVIS. Where is the Iron Man armor Tony was using in the fight today?"

"The Mark VII armor is currently in the sub-basement," JARVIS said. "Storage room 22."

  


* * *

  


The sub-basement was darker than the rest of the floors Steve had visited so far. He guessed it wouldn't be brightly illuminated even under normal circumstances, because no one usually came here. Following JARVIS's directions towards the specific storage room, he found himself in a cool, featureless corridor with plain concrete walls that almost felt like it was purposefully uninviting. There were many doors in both walls, some of them big double doors, some smaller. A lot of them had high-tech locks on them.

Steve knew that most of the Tower's server computers and other tech related to running the building were here, as well as some of Tony's abandoned older projects, but why would Tony have come here today? As far as Steve knew, this floor had no workspace for him, no tools like what he'd have in his workshop, and certainly no medical supplies. It didn't make any sense for him to want to do his post-mission repairs down here.

Storage room 22 was one of the smaller doors, and had a lock with fingerprint and retinal scanners on it. This might be a problem. Steve tried the door, and it was locked, of course.

"JARVIS, can you let me in?" he asked.

"You do have a master override code, Captain," JARVIS replied, still acting all sly and conspiratorial.

Steve repeated his password, and the red indicator light on the electronic lock blinked to green. Steve pushed the door open.

The room was small and plain, and dark except for an emergency fluorescent tube right above the doorway, giving out a pale light that barely reached the corners of the room. There was a figure slumped on the floor across from Steve, unmoving, shrouded in shadows.

Steve flicked on the flashlight he'd brought with him. As the beam hit the person in the corner, Steve's breath caught in his throat, his skin tingling with goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chilly air.

It was Tony, and yet, it wasn't.

Tony's face looked perfectly normal. His expression was neutral, his eyes closed; he didn't look like he was in any pain, more like he was sleeping. But where his right ear should've been was circuitry, surrounding a round light that glowed the same blue as his arc reactor, and actually seemed to connect to it in similarly lit lines running down his neck.

  


At first glance, Steve had assumed this not-quite-Tony was wearing the Iron Man armor, but now that he ran his gaze along Tony's body, it clearly wasn't the one he'd worn in the battle. That suit was in pieces on the ground, in the next corner, together with Tony's clothes and a bundle that looked like one of his undersuits.

The golden plating he saw on Tony's body didn't look like it was covering him. It wasn't bulky enough for that. It looked like it _was_ him, like he was actually made of metal. Like he was a robot.

This obviously wasn't the real, original Tony. Couldn't be. In a rush of nostalgia, Steve remembered all the times he'd held Tony close, felt Tony's warm skin against his, Tony's muscles shivering under his fingers when he'd touched him, the beat of his heart beneath the arc reactor. Tony had certainly been human when they'd been together. Tony couldn't have been—whatever this thing was.

Looking at the battered pieces of armor and the obvious damage to the robot's right shoulder, it must've been posing as Tony in the battle. Could this be the explanation for why Tony had seemed so different after the breakup?

Maybe he hadn't been Tony at all. Maybe he'd been a lookalike. A very good one, but not quite good enough. It would fit the changes in his behavior, the odd lack of emotions, and the way he'd seemed perfectly groomed at all times. A robot wouldn't have feelings, and it wouldn't need to shower or shave.

If he was right about this, it led to the very disturbing question of what had happened to the real Tony. Where was he? Had he been kidnapped? Why would anyone put up such an elaborate ruse? What had they been trying to achieve?

This robot-Tony had better have some answers for him. Steve crouched by its side, setting the flashlight on the ground next to them.

The robot seemed unconscious, or rather, offline. Steve grabbed its intact shoulder and gave it a rough shake. "Hey, you! Wake up!"

The robot raised its head slowly, its left eye blinking open and focusing on Steve. The right stayed closed. "Steve? No, this isn't right," it said. Just like for the past weeks, it sounded exactly like Tony, except that the voice was now oddly toneless, and the words were clearly slurred; it looked like half of its mouth wasn't moving like it should.

Steve felt a pang of concern at that, and was instantly annoyed at himself for it. This wasn't an injured Tony he was facing. This was a machine that had been misleading him, that had replaced Tony for who knew what nefarious purposes.

"Don't call me Steve. I don't know you. What have you done to Tony?" he demanded in his most commanding voice. Never mind that it'd probably be as pointless as shouting to JARVIS.

"I haven't done anything," the robot replied, its voice cool and neutral. It really was reminiscent of talking to an AI. Maybe now that its true identity had been revealed to Steve, the robot had decided not to pretend to be Tony anymore—or maybe it was unable to, because of the damage it had taken.

"I don't believe you," Steve said firmly, his grip tightening on the robot's metallic shoulder. It felt a lot like squeezing Tony's shoulder when he was wearing the armor. This robot had been wearing Tony's armor. It had, apparently, taken over his whole life. How was that even possible? God, what if something terrible had happened to Tony? "You're here and he's not. You've been posing as him for weeks, haven't you? _Where is Tony?_ "

"He—" the robot began, then stopped abruptly, its mouth working but no sound coming out. The effect looked so disturbingly like a Tony who was having trouble breathing that Steve had to fight off misplaced concern again, and that just served to make him angrier.

"I'm sorry," the robot finally said. "I've been ordered not to tell you. I can't."

Steve grabbed hold of the robot's other shoulder as well, lifting it off the floor, against the wall behind it. "Programmed by who? Who put you up to this? What do they want?"

"I can't tell you!" the robot repeated, its voice slightly louder, as if it were getting angry too.

Before Steve had time to ask anything else, another voice spoke up behind him—except that it was the same voice. Same, and yet different. Less slurred, but more weary. "Leave poor Junior alone, Steve. This isn't his fault."

Steve had been too distracted to even notice the sound of approaching footsteps.

He let go of the robot, leapt up and turned around. 

Tony was standing in the doorway, in full armor, helmet under one arm, and he looked awful. It was as if he'd aged a couple of years and lost several pounds of weight since the night of their breakup. His face was more lined, and seemed colorless in the pale light that made the dark smudges under his eyes very pronounced.

"Tony," Steve breathed, even more confused. "What the hell is going on?"

"That's what I'd also like to know," Tony said, looking past Steve at his robotic counterpart.

"You know what he means. You know what's going on," the robot said, its one open eye turning towards Tony.

"Tony, are you saying you're behind this?" Steve asked incredulously. "You—you broke up with me and replaced yourself with a robot?"

Things were making less and less sense with every second that passed. One moment, Steve had been worried about Tony, had thought he might've been kidnapped or worse yet, killed for some evil scheme, but it was starting to look like Tony himself was the one behind the scheme. Steve couldn't, for the life of him, imagine why Tony would've done this.

"Yeah, this is all me," Tony admitted, looking guilty. "All except for the part where Mark II went and got himself in trouble and then allowed you to find him," Tony went on, his voice growing stronger towards the end, his gaze on the robot. He stepped past Steve, and settled on his armored knees in front of it. "Did I not give you explicit orders? What were you even trying to do in that fight? I looked through the logs. This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been reckless, tweaked the security safeguards, and forgotten every single thing about tactics that you have in your memory."

"I was trying to help you," the robot—Mark II—said, its voice surprisingly soft and apologetic.

"Did I ask for your help?" Tony growled back at it.

"No, because you were too stubborn to ask when you needed it! If you'd asked for help earlier, you—" Mark II started, and then seemed to get stuck again, as if physically unable to continue the sentence.

Steve moved closer to Tony and robot-Tony, crouching to the floor to be level with them. "You what, Tony? What could possibly have driven you to this?"

"Long story. One that I'd rather not tell now," Tony said, keeping his eyes on Mark II. "I need to fix him, I can't stand watching him like this." 

"I can't stand watching you like this," Steve returned. He reached out to touch Tony's cheek, to turn his head so they were facing one another properly. Tony's skin felt clammy, and now that Steve was so close to him, he could notice there were dark lines crawling up his neck, unlike anything Steve had seen. "You're clearly not all right, either. What's going on?"

Tony shook off Steve's hand and pulled away from him, looking irritated, but not breaking eye contact. "I'm fine. I promise I'll explain later."

Steve wasn't going to take this anymore. "Stop lying to me!" he snapped. "I can see you're not fine. Nothing about this situation is fine, none of it makes the least bit of sense! I deserve to know. Why would you do this to me? To us?"

"I had good reasons," Tony insisted.

"I'm sure they looked good to you! All I see is you being an asshole towards me and refusing to even say why!" Steve pressed on.

"You're hardly the first person to call me that," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "Actually, I think that's not even the first time you've called me that."

"Okay, let's try this then," Steve said, struggling to keep his voice under control. "Did you actually want to break up with me? Did you mean what you said that night?"

Tony sighed and looked away. "No," he admitted, his voice much softer. "I didn't want to. I just saw no other way."

"Then tell me why!" Steve growled.

" _Because I'm dying, Steve!_ "

Tony's reply was so abrupt and angry that it took Steve several seconds to register the full, devastating meaning of those words.

The room fell perfectly quiet; so quiet Steve could hear the hum of the two arc reactors, Tony's and his robot copy's, and the shaky, uneven way Tony was breathing.

Dying. No. That couldn't be right. He couldn't be.

"What—how?" Steve stammered. He wasn't even sure what he's asking. What had happened, maybe. How could Tony be dying.

Tony seemed to slump inside his armor. He fell backwards, shifting from his knees to sit on the floor, his back against the wall, like a mirror image of his robot copy.

"It's the arc reactor. The palladium core, specifically," Tony explained, more subdued again. "I thought I could fix it, I may have been wrong. I didn't want to tell you exactly because I didn't want you looking at me like that."

Tony had looked sick before they'd broken up. Steve had explained it away afterwards as him reacting physically to the emotional conflict he'd been struggling with. Clearly, he'd gotten it all backwards. Tony hadn't been sick because he'd thought they needed to break up. He'd broken up because he'd been sick.

Steve was appalled, and angry, and heartbroken, all at once. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Of course I was," Tony said. "I just didn't want you to worry. I was going to tell you as soon as I had this all sorted out." He made a face that Steve had seen many times before, one that was somewhere between a grin and a grimace, but his eyes looked terribly sad, moisture glistening on them.

This, Steve thought, was what had been missing. The robot, Mark II, like Tony was calling it, would've known how to make that expression, that particular quirk of the lips, but it would never have caught that look in Tony's eyes, or that brittleness in his voice.

Just like that night when they'd split up, Steve wanted to be mad, and he just couldn't.

"Oh, Tony," he breathed, shaking his head, and shuffled closer to him on the floor, reaching to place his arms around the armor.

This time, Tony didn't move away from him, but let his forehead fall against Steve's shoulder. If not for the thick metal shell Tony was encased in, Steve was sure he could've felt him trembling.

"I missed you, you know," Steve told him. He desperately longed to feel Tony's skin against his, instead of the armor.

"Same," Tony mumbled into Steve's T-shirt. "You have no idea. God, Steve. I'm sorry. I just—"

Tony hadn't wanted to leave him. Tony had missed him. That should've made him happy, but how could it, when Tony had acted as duplicitously as he had—and when he'd said he was sick, dying, and unable to fix it?

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do anymore," Tony confessed, his voice barely audible.

Steve wished he had something to suggest, but he could barely even hope to understand what the problem was. He tried to sound reassuring nevertheless. "We'll think of something."

Tony let out a bitter, dry chuckle. "Yeah. Sure."

"You're not considering giving up, are you?" Steve asked sharply. "That's not like you."

"I'm just so tired," Tony said tonelessly.

They fell into silence for a moment, Tony's armor pressing uncomfortably against Steve with only a thin shirt between the hard metal and his skin, but he wouldn't have moved for the world. They might've stayed like that for much longer if not for the sudden sound of a body falling to the floor right next to them.

Tony shifted, raising his head, pushing Steve away. "Oh no," he said.

Steve had almost forgotten that the robot-Tony was even in the room; he honestly didn't care. He still felt irrationally mad at it for supplanting Tony, even if Tony had admitted he'd been the one to give the order. Now, Mark II had apparently gone offline again, and slumped to the floor, sideways, leaving him lying on his good side.

"Shit, I knew I shouldn't have waited with the repairs," Tony swore. He moved closer to the robot and put his helmet on, probably to scan the robot. "Looks like he's overheated, trying to run his usual routines and then some, with only half his processors working normally," he commented.

"That's really not important," Steve said bluntly. "The robot can wait. I'm far more worried about you."

Tony raised his mask to give Steve a glare. "Not a robot. LMD. An android. And yeah, he's important."

"Fine, LMD. Whatever. Tony, I know how much your machines mean to you, but considering what you said about yourself…" Steve let his voice trail off. If he had to choose between curing Tony and mending a broken android, it was obvious which one came first.

"I may not be able to fix myself, but I should be able to fix him," Tony said firmly. He reached to put his arms around the android and lifted it up, over his shoulder. He kept talking as he stood up, easily handling the android's weight with the armor on. "I don't think you understand, Steve. He's more than a machine. I was stupid enough to think that's all he was, too, and I should've known better. His behavior's gone way beyond what I would've expected. He hasn't just been following orders, I think he's been genuinely altruistic. The only reason I'm even here, the only reason you found out about me, is Mark II."

Steve hadn't realized that, and sure, it was surprising, but he couldn't bring himself to care about philosophical debates on artificial intelligence or robot rights. "He's still not you."

Tony had already started walking towards the door, carrying his unmoving counterpart. "Not exactly, but he is a lot like me. A better me, even." Tony cast a glance at Steve over his shoulder. "If I don't find a solution to my problem very soon, he'll be the only me."

Steve stepped forward too, matching his steps with Tony's. "Wait, is that how you were thinking this would go? That if you didn't make it he'd just—keep playing your part indefinitely? Did you think we wouldn't notice?"

"No, I didn't, of course I didn't. I wasn't planning on not coming back. Honestly, I thought I'd have everything sorted out a lot sooner than this," Tony said. "Look, I know I've been an idiot. I know I've not done right by you, and I've messed up. But please, let's save this conversation for later. I need to make sure at least one Tony Stark comes out of this alive. Even if it's the artificial one. I've already wasted too much time."

Steve shook his head. He didn't consider it wasted time, Tony finally telling him the truth. He let Tony step out of the storage room anyway.

He didn't agree with Tony's priorities. He wasn't convinced that this android was in any way comparable to Tony. Sure, Steve had seen it do an excellent impersonation, but it was a long stretch from that to thinking that it was an actual sentient individual. Then again, Tony was right in that they should start doing something, instead of just sitting in the basement shouting at one another.

  


* * *

  


Once they reached the workshop, Tony carelessly cleared out a table by pushing everything on it to the floor, scattering bits of tech all over, and laid the android on it. Resting there on its back, its eyes closed and its face unmoving and expressionless, the LMD looked indistinguishable from an unconscious human Tony.

Tony went on to get out of his armor, using the secondary rig he had for that in his shop. As soon as the last plate was off, leaving him in a regular outfit of T-shirt and grease-stained jeans, he headed towards the android. He didn't quite get there before he visibly wavered on his feet, and had to stop to lean on a desk for support.

Steve rushed to his side, put an arm around his waist, and helped him to the nearest chair. "You okay?" he asked, on reflex.

"Considering I've got about a week left to live?" Tony returned sourly, a hand pressed against his forehead, his thumb kneading his temple. "Yeah. Never better."

"Maybe you should—" Steve began.

Tony let his hand drop and shook his head slowly. "No. I can rest later. It won't make me feel much better anyway." He pushed himself up from the chair, moving cautiously, and reaching out towards Steve. "Come on, give me a hand. I need to do this."

Steve pursed his lips unhappily, but he knew he couldn't convince Tony to leave this be. He helped Tony over to the android's side, where he grabbed some tools, settled on a stool, and dove into work, talking with JARVIS.

"He tried to do some repairs on his own?" Tony said, clearly a rhetorical question. "I can see he's tried to bypass some of the damaged wiring in his neck, but I don't think that helped very much. It may have just contributed to this overheating issue."

"He did try, and yes, that is indeed likely, sir," JARVIS replied. "He had limited capabilities for diagnostics, and even worse when it came to repairs."

"Damn, kid. Something a bit less extreme would've been enough to catch my attention," Tony swore, shaking his head at the android, grimacing. "Any data on the device that did this?"

"Our scans revealed nothing. The device should still be in the sub-basement," JARVIS pointed out.

"Too bad," Tony said. "It would've come in handy."

"I can go pick it up," Steve promised.

"Cool. Thanks," Tony said, looked up, and offered Steve a smile.

It was a wan smile on a pale, tired face, but still, it made Steve's heart leap. He'd missed Tony's smile. He'd not even realized how much. God.

He left the shop, and headed down using the stairs. It was a long way to go on foot, but he was sure Tony could keep himself busy with the repairs even without Fixer's device, and Steve trusted JARVIS to tell him if Tony needed help. 

He was glad to have something physical to do, and to have some time to think, because he was struggling to wrap his head around everything that had happened in the past hour.

He'd gotten Tony back only to learn that he was about to lose him again.

He was mad at himself for how ready he was to forgive Tony after everything he'd done. The pain of the break-up and the uncertainty of weeks spent wondering why Tony was avoiding him, trying to tell himself that his gnawing suspicions were just denial—all of that felt meaningless and minor in comparison to the thought that he might only have a few more days left with Tony. No matter how many worrisome explanations he'd come up with for Tony's odd behavior, this was far, far worse.

He hadn't thought anything could be so much more painful than the break-up had been.

Deep in thought, he reached the dark basement floor sooner than he'd expected to, and went to pick up the device from the pile of discarded armor pieces and clothes left on the floor by Mark II. Searching through them, he realized to his dismay that what he'd earlier taken for a bundled-up undersuit was actually the android's skin. It had peeled off its outer layer like stripping off clothes, revealing that golden metal surface Steve had seen. That was, somehow, much more disturbing than it should've been. He shuddered and tried not to look at it.

It didn't take long to locate Fixer's device, which was so badly damaged, it was barely more than a molten lump of metal. Steve wasn't sure it'd be of much use to Tony, but maybe it could still give some helpful hints.

He rushed up the stairs again, as fast as he could go, enjoying the exertion. Going up was strenuous and required enough concentration in the dim light that he could almost stop thinking about anything.

It also almost made him bowl over Natasha; only her quick reflexes prevented them from colliding. She sidestepped and pressed herself against the wall as Steve came to a halt, panting.

"Steve? I was looking for you," Natasha said, a hint of accusation in her voice. "You went off the grid. What's going on? Did you catch Tony?"

Steve hadn't thought at all about what he was going to tell the others—he'd been far too wrapped in his own emotions. He didn't feel like he could, or even should, explain everything to her, now, here in the stairwell. He imagined saying that who they'd taken for Tony for the past weeks had actually been an android, and that Tony was terribly ill, and he just couldn't.

"Yeah, I found him. Sorry I didn't let you know, we've… Had a lot to think about," Steve told her vaguely. He realized as he spoke that he was making himself a part of that web of lies and cover-ups that Tony had set up, and he hated it, but he couldn't help it. They should think this through first, consider how they'd break the news to everyone else.

"Is that so," Natasha said suspiciously, quirking an eyebrow. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not right now," Steve said. "Maybe later. We'll let you know."

Natasha raised both eyebrows at that, a smile playing on her lips. "So, the two of you are a 'we' again, are you?"

Steve felt like they were, though that was another conversation he hadn't yet had with Tony and needed to—then again, the specific word they should use about themselves hardly seemed important right now.

"I hope so," he replied to Natasha.

He probably sounded less excited about it than he should've, because Natasha gave him another one of her calculating looks, clearly trying to make sense of his reaction, and probably not getting there. How could she? She didn't know.

"Well, I hope so too," Natasha said, and reached out to place a hand on Steve's bicep. "I just wanted to make sure you were both okay, and to let you know that we're mostly done with the cleanup. Bruce is working on figuring out the power failure, but he's a little out of his element and could use Tony's help."

"Right," Steve said. He should've thought of that. He suspected he wouldn't be able to convince Tony to leave the android's side anytime soon. "It might be a while before he can join in."

"Is he all right?" Natasha asked perceptively. "Was he actually injured or not?"

How the hell was Steve supposed to answer that without blatant lies?

"He wasn't injured in the fight, but he's not really all right either," he said. He felt his throat grow tight just saying that, thinking about how very much not all right Tony was. As far from all right as he could be.

Natasha squeezed his arm reassuringly. "I hope it's nothing too serious," she said, like she suspected that it was, no doubt picking up Steve's uneasy expression. "Go back to him, then. Just let us know if there's anything we can do, okay? You know we always look after one another."

"I will," Steve assured her. "If there's anything urgent you need me for, tell JARVIS."

Steve started racing up the stairs again, relieved that she hadn't seen the need to push the matter and to interrogate him further about it, because he felt like he might've just fallen apart if she had.

  


* * *

  


Back in the workshop, Steve found Tony exactly where he'd left him, next to the android. He'd opened a series of panels running all the way down the android's right half, on its shin, its thigh, its side and its arm. There were pieces of gold plate and wiring scattered on the table and the floor around them, but the android's eyes were still closed, and currently, Tony didn't seem to be doing anything. He was resting one arm against the table, his head in the crook of his elbow, like he'd decided to take a nap.

"Tony?" Steve called out to catch his attention.

Tony sat up straight, letting his hands fall on his lap, and rolling his shoulders and neck. "Hi," he returned, his voice flat.

Steve approached him, holding out his hand with Fixer's device on it. "Here you go. That's what hit the android."

Tony took the device and turned it in his hands, squinting at it with a disappointed, disgruntled expression. "Well, Mark II was definitely thorough taking it out of operation," he finally said, and tossed the device to the next desk over. "Reverse engineering this would take longer than repairing him will. Oh well, not that it would change things anyhow, it's obvious there won't be any shortcuts. Better get back to it."

"So, have you made any progress?" Steve asked, looking over the android again. He noticed that Tony had disconnected its arc reactor, and the lines of glowing blue that Steve had seen earlier were now all dark. He crossed his arms, trying to reel in another bout of resentment at the android for taking Tony's attention. They were wasting time that Tony could've spent on mending himself instead. On his own arc reactor, which was killing him. This just wasn't right.

"Some," Tony replied, not sounding particularly happy with it. "As far as I can tell, Fixer's device sent out some kind of a power surge that permanently fried a lot of Junior's wiring. I've got no choice but to replace it all. That means a lot of hands-on work." He sighed, and rubbed at his forehead, closing his eyes for a few seconds.

It was painful to watch him, so obviously tired and and feeling awful, and still pushing himself to work. "Can't this wait?" Steve asked once again.

"If you'd just blown the nerves and circulation in half of your body, would you want me to wait?" Tony snapped back.

"That's hardly the same," Steve complained. "I mean, just from the technical point of view, he could wait, couldn't he? It's not like he's going to get worse. He'd still be waiting if you took some time for yourself first."

Tony turned around in his stool to glare up at Steve. "He's not, but I am. I have to finish this while I can. I owe it to him, Steve. I put him in an unfair position to start with, he tried to handle that as best he could, and now he's paying for it."

 _And what about the position you put me in_ , Steve wanted to say, but that'd hardly be productive. That'd just end up in them shouting at one another again. He didn't want to start a fight, not now. What he really wanted was for this to be over with, as soon as possible. He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down.

"Then let me help," he offered instead. "I may not be an engineer, but I can follow orders, and I've got steady hands."

"You'd do that?" Tony raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised. "When you clearly can't stand Mark II?"

"You think it's important. If this is how I get you to focus on yourself sooner, of course I would," Steve said. He went down on one knee to be level with Tony, and took hold of Tony's hand. "I want to help you in every way I can. Let's sort out this, and then we can get started on solving your problem."

"Steve, you've got to realize that my problem might be beyond anyone's ability to fix," Tony said softly, closing Steve's hand between both of his. "It might be a losing battle. I wanted you to move on, I didn't want you hung up on me if I—"

"Tony, stop that," Steve said bluntly, placing his free hand on Tony's knee, giving it a squeeze. "You don't need to protect me. You never should've, that was, honestly, completely stupid on your part. What happens will happen, and I'll handle it. For now, as long as there's time, let's make the best of it."

Tony gave him a lopsided grin, his eyes still a little sad. "I knew there'd be pep talks. There always are."

"You always complain about them, but I know deep down you actually love them," Steve said, returning a small smile of his own.

"I—" Tony said, then stopped and bit his lip. Somehow, the effect was vaguely similar to when the android had been asked something it couldn't say. "Steve, you know," Tony started again. "I don't just love your pep talks. I love _you_. So much. I should've said it earlier. A lot earlier. I'm saying it now, before it's too late."

Steve's breath caught in his throat, his hands clenching, one around Tony's fingers, the other on his knee.

They'd never said those words, in the time they'd been together, even though Steve had thought them, many times. When they'd broken up, he'd thought they never would. He'd thought he'd lost his chance forever.

"I love you too," Steve said, his voice sounding as choked as he felt. "God, I didn't think I'd ever get to tell you." 

Steve let go with his hands and shifted even closer to Tony to pull him into a hug. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve as well, and slid off the stool. They landed on the floor in a half-controlled slump, Tony on Steve's lap, clinging to one another tightly.

"Does this mean you'll have me back?" Tony murmured into Steve's ear.

Could Steve forgive what Tony had done, the way he'd betrayed Steve, hurt him, misled him—could he just forget all of that? Even if Tony had been acting as he had because he'd been trying to protect Steve, it had been wrong, cruel and unfair, and he knew he shouldn't just let it pass.

Of course, the truth was, he already had.

Steve buried one hand in Tony's hair, and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. "As if there was ever any doubt," he said.


	5. Gold

> _In popular culture gold has many connotations but is most generally connected to terms such as good or great, such as in the phrases: "has a heart of gold", "that's golden!", "golden moment", "then you're golden!" and "golden boy". It remains a cultural symbol of wealth and through that, in many societies, success._ [[5](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gold#Cultural_history)]

  


* * *

  


Tony should've considered asking for Steve's assistance earlier. Not for the problem-solving, but for the practical side of things. Steve was actually an excellent aide for this type of work, far better at holding parts in tricky positions than the bots would've been.

Honestly, if not for Steve's help, Tony might've needed to work round the clock to repair Mark II; now it only took some four hours, even including several breaks. Of course, that was already a lot to ask of his useless, failing body.

Tony rested one elbow on the table, pressed his knuckles against his forehead and closed his eyes. He felt like shit. It really didn't help that he'd missed the meds he would normally have taken to keep the symptoms at bay, and now he felt so queasy it'd be difficult to keep them down. His head was killing him, his hands were shaking, and just breathing felt like a taxing chore that made his aching muscles protest.

Steve's hands landed on his shoulders, kneading lightly, wonderfully soothing.

Tony shivered at the touch that was simultaneously amazing and almost too much, both physically and mentally. He still couldn't quite believe this was really happening. That he was with Steve again. That Steve had forgiven him and wanted to help, after everything.

A part of him was screaming that this was wrong and exactly what he'd tried to avoid all along: he was dragging Steve into this spiral of suffering he had sunk into and Steve would also be terribly hurt, watching him in his last days and unable to do anything to stop his decline. Steve would sit by his deathbed holding his hand and looking heartbroken and everything would feel a hundred times worse. And yet, in another, more selfish corner of his mind, he was glad, and immensely thankful for Mark II's actions, because at least this meant he wouldn't be alone, in the end. It meant he'd get to spend his remaining days with the people he loved.

Yeah, he'd lost faith. Not that he'd admit it aloud, but he couldn't lie to himself. He didn't think he was going to get better. He'd run out of time. He was done for.

Steve's hands stopped to rest on his back, radiating a lovely warmth through his shirt. "We could take a proper break again. We've been at this for ages," Steve offered. "Maybe I could get you coffee."

Just the thought of coffee, the memory of the smell of it, was enough to make Tony's nausea worse. God, he hated this. "Uh, nope," he said, without turning his head. "This is almost finished anyway. Three more joints and we can close off the panels and switch him on."

He managed to keep going for another half an hour, by the end of which he was as confident as he could be without practical testing that he'd got Mark II back in full working order. All that remained was to see if theory would stand up to reality.

Somehow, he felt incredibly nervous about this. He desperately wanted Mark II to be all right. Partly because he owed it to him, and because Mark II seemed to have grown and evolved in a way Tony had never expected. And maybe also because it'd make him feel better about his own impending demise to know that a part of him would live on in android form. Was this how people felt about having kids? He was well aware that Mark II wasn't him, and that point was constantly reinforced by how Steve seemed to dislike the android, much like Pepper always had. Still, Mark II was based on him. Not just his physical appearance, but his thought patterns as well. They were not the same, but they were similar.

Lofty philosophical thoughts aside, he just really wanted there to be at least one thing that he actually could fix, after months of fruitless and increasingly desperate efforts.

"Okay, here goes," he told Steve. 

With hands that were trembling badly from combined nerves and fatigue, he reconnected Mark II's arc reactor and pressed the power button, revealed by the still open panel in his side.

After the expected brief delay for routine startup diagnostics, Mark II's eyes opened—both eyes, Tony noted, satisfied—and seemed to focus first on Tony, then on Steve.

Tony realized that he was holding his breath waiting for Mark II to take one, and wanted to slap himself. Mark II didn't actually need to. He let go of that breath in a sigh, and tried to make his tone casual as he greeted his counterpart. "Morning, Mini-Me. Feeling better?"

Mark II's gaze returned to Tony, he raised his eyebrows, and gave a small, tentative smile. "I think so, yeah." Still lying on his back, he raised his right hand to press it experimentally against his right cheek, where Tony had removed the bypass cables. He ran his fingers over to his ear, back in place, then held his hand out in front of him, closing it in a fist and opening it again. "Definitely better. Thanks."

Now, that was just wrong. "You really don't need to thank me," Tony said. "You shouldn't have ended up hurt in the first place. That was my fault."

Mark II sat up on the table, and turned to face Tony. "Technically, I wasn't hurt, you know I don't feel pain. Though that was a disturbing experience and I really wouldn't want to do it again."

That was wrong, too—had Mark II just admitted to actually feeling discomfort? As if Tony hadn't already felt guilty enough. "You won't have to. I'll see to it," he declared.

"It also wasn't your fault," Mark II added. "Well, in an indirect way, sure, you could say it was. The situation was your fault, and I think you made some very bad decisions to put us in it. But what I did today was my own choice."

His choice. Not what his programming required, but a choice. Choices weren't really supposed to be something Mark II did. Would he be able to tell apart a compulsion created by the programming and his own free will, if he had that?

This was starting to get seriously deep. Tony wished he weren't feeling like something the cat dragged in.

He sat down on the stool again, because he wasn't entirely sure how much longer his legs would hold him. He needed to be horizontal. He needed sleep. But he also needed to have this conversation, which might end up being one of the most important conversations he'd ever had. They were witnessing something of huge implications here.

"You wanted to help me, wanted to fix that situation, and came up with a plan to do that. Why?" Tony asked. He found himself scrutinizing Mark II's expressions carefully, as if they might reveal something that went beyond his programming.

"Because it was the right thing to do?" Mark II said, his voice and his face neutral. "You're important to me. I want you to be safe and healthy and happy," he told Tony. He then turned to Steve, who'd remained silent so far. "I also wanted you to be happy, Steve. You've become important to me, too."

Steve's eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. It was almost amusing, such a sudden, completely flabbergasted look. "Me?" he asked incredulously.

Tony couldn't claim he wasn't surprised as well. He hadn't been expecting that. For Mark II to have a protective streak towards his creator was in line with his programming. Tony might've even overlooked it as an evolving AI expanding its interpretation of its original operating parameters. But for it to also include Steve, to actually quote _Steve's happiness_ as a motivation to act?

He'd already realized he'd badly underestimated Mark II, but clearly he hadn't gotten the full picture.

"Yes, you," Mark II said, his expression quite serious, his eyes fixed on Steve. "Why not? It's easy to see why Mark I is so attracted to you. You're very handsome, highly intelligent, and an inspiring leader. An amazing guy. Why wouldn't I like you?"

Tony felt a chill run down his spine. Those words were all too close to something he'd said to Steve on the night of their breakup, and holy shit, was his LMD actually confessing to having feelings for his boyfriend? He wasn't sure if he should be proud or jealous. It was surreal. It almost seemed more likely that he might've already fallen asleep and that this was all a vivid dream.

Steve had closed his mouth and was glaring at Mark II, his face grim. No doubt he'd also picked up that unfortunate similarity in phrasing. "But you're a machine!" he exclaimed disbelievingly. "You're not supposed to like things."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Mark II said, in the most perfectly human, sarcastic tone and an equally human self-deprecating smirk. "It's not like I'm going to forget what I am," he said, glanced down at his side, and closed the panel there that Tony hadn't yet gotten around to sealing. "But that doesn't change the fact that I've also got these, well, emotions, of sorts? It's not like I can compare them to yours. I don't know if they're equivalent. I'm just interpreting them the best I can, with the frame of reference that I've got."

"That's the only thing any of us can do. How do I know that anyone else's feelings are like mine? I don't. None of us do," Tony said.

"Even so, I can say that these particular feelings aren't mutual," Steve told Mark II bluntly.

The look on Mark II's face barely changed at that. "I could guess as much. I wasn't expecting them to be," he said, sounding nothing but pragmatic. Feelings or not, his emotional responses clearly weren't quite like a human's. Tony wouldn't have taken Steve's rejection in stride. "I've got no delusions of actually measuring up to Tony Prime," Mark II nodded towards Tony. "He's the real deal. I'm a replica that lacks a lot of features. I know you'd never have the kind of feelings for me that you have for him. Which was why I wanted the two of you to sort things out."

Wow, did that sound painfully familiar. Mark II liked Steve, but thought he wasn't good enough for him. Tony had been there, too, for quite a while. He'd occasionally strayed to thinking like that even when they'd been together, wondering why Steve would put up with him. Hell, he was there right now; he thought he didn't deserve this kindness and love that he was getting from Steve after what he'd done.

The difference between him and Mark II was, the first time Tony had confessed his feelings, Steve had reciprocated. For Mark II, that wasn't likely to ever happen.

Tony found himself feeling incredibly sad for Mark II.

Had he caused this, too? Was this a consequence of how much of himself he'd put into Mark II? Had he accidentally created an android predestined to fall for Captain America?

"I didn't mean for this to happen. Of course, I never meant for any of this to happen," Tony said, waving a hand in a vague gesture. "If I'd realized how much you'd grown, I'd have reconsidered my plan," he added to Mark II.

"I think it was your plan that caused me to grow," Mark II said. "When you activated me and gave me your orders, I didn't spare a single thought to whether they made sense. Back then, it wouldn't have occurred me to bend the rules for some self-assigned secondary goal. It wasn't until later that I started getting these ideas and feelings."

Come to think of it, this had been the longest time Mark II had ever been operating independently, and the longest time he'd ever been running overall. There were no practical limitations to how long he could stay on, with the arc reactor providing a nearly limitless power supply; it'd just never been necessary for Tony to rely on him for longer than a few days in one go. Huh. Was the explanation that simple? Just the additional time, the added stimulation from the surroundings, and the example set by the other Avengers?

"I think I'll want to go through your logs and source code to see if I can pinpoint what's changed, and how, and when," Tony noted aloud.

"You're welcome to do that," Mark II said. He sounded resigned, at odds to how unemotional his earlier comments had been. "Frankly, I'm surprised you switched me on again in the first place. It's not as if you'll have much use for me now. I expect you'll be putting me back in storage soon."

"Wait, what?" Tony blurted out. "I'd never do that! Who do you take me for? You're a thinking, feeling, sentient individual, I'm not going to lock you up in the basement!"

Shocked and offended that this amazing being he had half-accidentally created would think so lowly of him, Tony leapt up from his seat. Not the best choice he'd made.

His vision went blurry and his knees started to fold, and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor, in Steve's arms. That would've been nice if not for the taste of bile at the back of his throat, burning at his nose, barely held at bay. Every fiber in his body was aching. He let out a rather undignified groan, his face pressed against Steve's chest, his eyes closed.

Mark II might not have limits for his runtime, but Mark I did, and he'd already pushed himself beyond them.

"I think we should continue this conversation later," Steve said, not in a commanding voice, but a soft, concerned one.

"Agreed," Mark II said. "It's been a long day already."

Tony took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together enough to manage a coherent sentence. "I'd argue, but I need to save that energy for not puking my guts out."

"It'd be two against one anyway. You lose the vote," Mark II remarked.

How could they just stop now, when there were so many things left to deal with? "We'll need to decide what to tell the others," Tony said. It probably sounded as unenthusiastic as he felt about it, the way he was talking into Steve's shirt.

"We don't need to do that right now," Steve said. "We'll talk to them tomorrow. After you've had some rest. Until then, all this can stay between us."

"You'll lie to the team to cover up for me?" Tony asked, opening his eyes and tilting his head just enough to glimpse Steve's face.

Steve pursed his lips. He obviously wasn't happy about it, but nevertheless, he said, "I will, because I can tell you need that beauty sleep, and you should be present for that conversation. In the meantime, though, someone needs to help Bruce sort out this power outage."

"I hear you, Cap," Mark II said. "You can leave that to Tony Two."

  


* * *

  


Looking at Mark I cradled in Steve's arms gave Mark II what was probably the most complicated set of emotions he'd had to deal with so far.

He was worried, of course, for Mark I, seeing him like this. He was also glad that clearly, during the time he'd spent offline, Mark I and Steve had managed to settle things between themselves. The difference to the quarrel he'd witnessed in the basement was obvious. And then there was a tinge, a low discordant note, of something else, something negative. Envy, it must be. He knew he'd never get to be there. Not that he'd expected to, but he had hoped Steve would at least tolerate him. What he'd gotten instead was open hostility. He could hide how he felt about that, but he couldn't stop feeling hurt about it.

Steve started getting up, still holding on to Mark I. Mark I pushed at his chest with a visibly shaky hand. "Put me down, I can walk," he complained.

"Really?" Steve said skeptically. "You couldn't even stand up."

"Head rush," Mark I said dismissively. "Come on. I'll be fine if we go slowly."

Steve was now standing up, with Mark I in a bridal carry, and he didn't seem to plan on budging from that position. "Sorry, but I'm not gonna take your word for that," he declared. "You're getting the VIP treatment today, whether you like it or not."

Mark I sighed in resignation, and placed one arm around Steve's neck, shifting into a more comfortable position. "Fine. Have it your way."

While Steve headed for the door, carrying Mark I, Mark II walked over to the corner of the workshop where Mark I had stashed some spare clothes. He needed to make himself presentable if he was to venture where people would see him.

"Cap, what do you want me to tell the others if they ask me where you are?" he shouted after the two before they could exit. "Or if they ask where the two of us have been?"

"Tell them Steve was helping me—uh, I mean, you, with the armor," Mark I replied.

"Yeah, they'll read between the lines and realize we needed the time alone," Steve said. "And you can say that I went to shower and change."

Mark I let out a chuckle. "Hah, you say that, and they'll read between the lines all right."

"I'll make an appearance later," Steve added.

"All right. I'll hold the fort until then," Mark II said, and waved a hand at the two, turning his back to them.

He considered his options. Only his hands, face and neck still had skin on them; he'd gotten rid of the rest of it for optimal access to his tech. He assumed it was still in the basement, and fetching it, never mind putting it back in place on his own, would take a while. He'd prefer something quicker.

After failing to find a single long-sleeved shirt, he realized there was a better alternative, and moved over to the side of the shop with the armor rig to get one of the undersuits that Mark I rarely wore these days. The thick neoprene fabric would easily hide his metallic body, with the long sleeves that stretched all the way to the heels of his hands and the collar that went halfway up his neck. It was perfect, except for the fact that Mark I usually didn't walk around wearing one for no reason. Hopefully the others wouldn't question it.

He pulled on the undersuit, stepped into a spare pair of sneakers, and had JARVIS call Bruce.

"How's my best lab buddy doing?" he greeted over the intercom. "Hard at work?"

"Tony! About time," Bruce replied, his frustration evident even in those few words. "I could really use a hand here. I've been at this for hours, but really, this job calls for someone with an entirely different skill set."

"Where are you, exactly?" Tony asked.

"Staring at the main electric switchboard in the service core maintenance space, at level minus one," Bruce replied.

"Okay, stay put, I'll be there in a blink," Tony promised.

He met Bruce outside the maintenance space, looking even more ruffled than usual, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his glasses slightly askew.

"You okay?" Bruce greeted him, eyeing him from head to toe.

"Fine, fine. Sorry it took me this long to join you, I had some trouble with the suit, and then Steve was there, and, well. Things got complicated," he made a vague gesture with one hand, like he'd seen Mark I do several times.

"Complicated. Uhuh. I see." Bruce nodded, raising his eyebrows. "Things are a bit complicated down here, too. Come on, I'll show you."

It turned out that what Fixer had used to disable their main power was a device that looked exactly like the one that he'd hit Tony with. Unfortunately, since Mark I had been the one to fix the damage Mark II had taken, and Mark II hadn't had the time to ask him about it, he didn't know the specifics.

"The device seems to have melted into place, and I didn't dare use force to remove it. So I opened it up, which didn't help at all, since I can't make heads or tails of its insides," Bruce summarized. "Didn't want to start just poking at it either, since I might've made things worse. I considered bringing in some of the maintenance technicians, but I didn't want to show Fixer's tech to anyone that I don't know and can't trust for sure. All I know so far is that this is a power distribution error, not a complete failure. The main arc reactor is still running. So, I've been trying to understand just how the power grid is set up, see if I could work around this, but, well. Even with JARVIS's help, I haven't gotten very far."

"Okay, let's see what we're dealing with then," Tony said, and got to work.

Taking apart Fixer's device was actually an interesting task, and the design seemed to suggest that the man behind it was a highly intelligent one. Too bad he'd chosen to use his skills for common supervillainy instead of something productive.

Tony eventually came to the conclusion that a power surge from the device had caused a significant amount of damage to the cabling running through this important distribution center, enough for the effects to ripple throughout the entire Tower. Fortunately, rerouting it wasn't too much of an issue; he was convinced he could get the main power back up again, and they could set a dedicated team to work on fully repairing everything with a less hurried schedule.

Bruce hovered close to Tony, helping where he could and occasionally asking about things related to the problem at hand. He seemed to be mostly keeping up with what Tony was doing, although the finer points of the circuitry were beyond the scope of his knowledge. Tony was waiting for him to start delving into more personal matters, but surprisingly enough, he never did, and Tony was able to finish the job in peace.

It was quite satisfying to follow on the computer display in front of him how power returned to every floor of the Tower, all the error messages fading away.

So, maybe he wasn't Mark I, maybe he didn't have a genius brain produced by some complicated interplay of genetics and environment, but the one Mark I had built for him wasn't half bad either. And come to think of it, undoubtedly, his brain had been significantly affected by the environment, too. Different components, but a convergent process.

Tony realized that for the first time since he'd called Mark I and learned the full breadth of the situation they were in, he was cautiously hopeful for his own future. Mark I didn't want him stored away, out of sight, out of mind. They hadn't discussed what the other alternative might be, but really, anything was better than that.

"That's it? All done?" Bruce caught his attention.

"Looking pretty damn good from where I'm standing. JARVIS, can you confirm?" Tony checked.

"The power distribution grid appears to be functioning normally throughout the building," JARVIS said.

Tony offered Bruce his best victorious grin. "There you have it. All done!"

"That's great!" Bruce smiled, too, though it was more restrained, as usual. "Want to go grab a snack? I heard there would be pizza. You must be starving by now."

"Yeah, that's the best idea I've heard all day," Tony said.

He certainly would've been hungry, had he actually needed to eat. Hopefully Steve would make sure that Mark I got some calories in before he went to sleep.

Tony followed Bruce up and into the common kitchen—and as soon as they got there, he realized he'd walked straight into a trap. Clint and Natasha were both there, lounging at the table with mugs and empty plates, and from the look they shared when they saw Tony enter, he guessed they'd been waiting for him to show up.

"So, you've decided to come out of hiding, Stark?" Clint greeted him.

"For now, but you better be careful. If I feel cornered, I may run off again," Tony joked.

Natasha seemed to have noticed his choice of clothing, her eyes not on his face but, as far as he could tell, on his right shoulder. The shoulder he'd damaged in the fight—and yeah, had he been wearing this undersuit during the fight, it should've at least been visibly singed. He should've considered that. Now she'd guess he wasn't fresh out of the fight, but that he'd actually stopped to change, and had changed into this instead of regular clothes.

He was sure she'd ask him about it, but instead, she just settled for a mildly intrigued expression, and said, "That's the last thing we'd want, we're happy to see you. There's still plenty of food left," she motioned at the kitchen counter with several pizza boxes on it. "Help yourself."

Doing what he knew was expected of him, Tony grabbed a mug of coffee and a couple of slices of pizza, and settled at the table with the others.

"I see Cap is still missing in action," Clint noted, offhand, while Tony was busy working his way through the food.

"Last I saw him he said he was going to get cleaned up," Tony said between mouthfuls.

"Such dirty work, those armor repairs, eh?" Clint said, waggling his eyebrows.

Tony decided to leave that without comment and focused on chewing.

"So, you and Steve finally had a proper talk about things, did you?" Bruce spoke up, voicing the question Tony had been waiting to hear from him all evening.

"We did," Tony replied. "Long overdue."

"And?" Natasha prompted.

Tony put down the pizza, and gave the rest of the table a glare. "Aren't you all nosy."

"I, for one, consider this an important team dynamics issue," Bruce said. Tony was pretty sure his solemn tone was meant in jest. "Honestly, we've all been a little concerned."

He wasn't sure what he should tell the others, aside from the few pointers he'd been given. Should he say he'd gotten back together with Steve? He wasn't sure where Mark I and Steve actually stood in regard to that, although they had clearly been behaving like everything was settled between them.

"There's no need for concern," Tony said. Of course, that was completely false. Good thing he'd never had any issues with lying.

He was trying to decide what else he could say if the others continued with the interrogation, which was tricky with the hazy parameters he was working with, but he was saved by Steve's well-timed entrance.

"Evening, all," Steve called out, making a beeline for the pizza. He had actually changed his T-shirt since Tony had last seen him, keeping their story consistent.

"Speak of the handsome devil," Tony said.

"You miss me already?" Steve said, with a fond smile.

Tony forced himself to return the smile, as conflicted as he felt about it. He'd like it very much if Steve actually, genuinely smiled at him like that, but he was aware it was just for show.

There was a generally expectant atmosphere in the table as they waited for Steve to sit down. The others allowed him exactly enough time to devour one slice before targeting him with questions.

"Are you also gonna be all cryptic?" Clint began.

"About what?" Steve returned all innocently.

"You know what," Natasha said.

"No, I don't," Steve said. "I can't answer if I don't know what the question is."

"Look, we don't want things to be awkward here," Clint said, starting to sound frustrated. "Can someone just please officially confirm whether you two are an item again?"

Tony tried to make eye contact with Steve, because he sure didn't know how to answer that, but Steve wouldn't meet his gaze. It seemed to Tony that Steve was struggling to keep his expression composed, and he bet at least Natasha would also notice.

"Unofficially, yes," Steve finally said. "Officially, you need to wait for tomorrow. There are certain things we need to tell you." His voice was dead serious, signaling to the others that this wasn't some kind of a joke. "Actually, let's all meet in the common lounge at, say, eleven hundred hours. I promise we'll explain everything."

"Huh," Clint said, looking mystified. "Okay, then. Now you've just made me even more curious."

"You're not the only one," Bruce said, frowning.

"Until then, I think I'm done here," Steve added, pushing back his chair to stand up, although he'd not even finished his second slice. "Come on, Tony."

"Sure, dear," Tony said, as if this was all planned, carefully hiding his surprise, and followed Steve out of the room.

Steve kept walking, not saying a word, and Tony went with him, just waiting for him to break the silence. Steve led them to the elevator and then to Tony's quarters.

"Okay," Steve finally spoke up after they were in the lounge. "I think it's time the two of us had a proper chat."

"If you want to. I don't need that. I think we both know where we stand already," Tony said. He felt like he should go pour himself a drink. That was what Mark I would do. It'd be a pointless exercise, since he couldn't get drunk and Steve already knew he wasn't Mark I, so he settled for just leaning on the counter.

"I don't think we do," Steve insisted, taking a classic defensive pose, his arms crossed.

"I like you, you hate me, that's okay." Tony shrugged. He didn't like how that made him feel, but he'd just have to learn to handle such things. "I promise I won't cry myself to sleep over this. I don't sleep or cry, anyway. I know I'm not him. I get it."

"I just don't want you to get the wrong idea," Steve said. "Clearly you already have. I don't hate you. I have nothing against you. I just don't like what you represent."

"What, the victory of tech over nature?" Tony said. He was pretty sure that wasn't it, but he actually had no clue what Steve was talking about.

Steve gave him an incredulous look. "You think I'd have gotten together with Tony if I generally disliked technology? The most famous inventor on the planet? The man who's only alive because of something he built?"

"I don't claim to fully understand how the human mind works," Tony said.

"Well, just take my word for it, I am in awe of Tony's inventions and have no issues with androids. At first I was angry at you because I'd been lied to, misled, and of course I hated that. I was just reacting," Steve explained.

That did make a certain amount of sense. "But not anymore?" Tony asked.

"I'm getting over it," Steve said.

"But?" Tony raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure I hear a but."

Steve looked down and sighed. "But you're a concrete reminder of how I failed Tony."

He was, of course, referring to Mark I, but even realizing that, Mark II couldn't understand what he meant. No amount of analyzing that sentence helped him figure it out. "You're going to have to explain that to me as if I'm an android with a fraction of the emotional IQ of a real person, because I have no clue why you'd think that."

"He could've just told me," Steve said, his voice low and heavy with emotion. "But he didn't feel like he could. He didn't trust me enough to do that. He chose to hide instead. I didn't realize he was sick, and then I didn't even realize he'd replaced himself with you. What kind of a partner does this make me?"

"A human one?" Tony suggested. "You know, you're talking to the wrong Tony here. I mean, if you're looking for someone to tell you that you did nothing wrong, sure, I can do that. It's my honest opinion after witnessing this all from a front-row seat that if anyone made mistakes, that was Mark I, not you. You did everything anyone could possibly have asked for. But I don't suppose you'll feel any better after hearing that from me."

Steve pursed his lips. "Not really. Yeah. I guess you're right."

"This isn't actually a conversation about me and you," Tony went on. "This is a conversation about Mark I and you. I'm just stuck in the middle. A stand-in for him. That's what I was made to be, and I'll never be anything else." He wondered if that sounded bitter to Steve. He definitely felt bitter.

"No. That's not true. Don't say that." Steve reached out with both hands to place them on Tony's shoulders. It was vaguely reminiscent of how he'd roughed him about in the basement, trying to question him about Mark I's whereabouts, but now his touch was hesitant and gentle.

Tony stayed very still, looking Steve in the eye, not sure where this was going.

  


"Tony," Steve started again, pronouncing the name carefully—not 'you' or 'robot' or even 'Mark II'. Tony liked hearing him say it like that. "I meant this to be a conversation about us, too. I just can't do that without bringing him into it. Really, what I was trying to do was to apologize, okay? I wanted to say I'm sorry, and I'm grateful for what you did for us. Yeah, I'm having a hard time figuring out what to think about you, but I don't hate you. I don't think I'll ever like you the way I like him, but I think you're pretty amazing. And for the record, I'd say you have a higher emotional IQ than many humans I know."

Tony found himself utterly at a loss for words, but it wasn't that uncomfortable brain freeze he got when he couldn't make sense of a situation. It was the opposite, like the power output of his arc reactor had suddenly gone up a notch and turned much warmer and brighter, like everything was in crystal clear focus around him, Steve's face in front of him more vibrant than ever.

"Thanks," Tony said, not trying to control his voice, just letting that feeling pour into it, unfiltered. It sounded soft and awed to him. "Thanks for telling me that."

He really wanted to hug Steve, but he wasn't sure if that would be okay, so he didn't.

Steve let go of his shoulders and stepped back from him. "It needed to be said. I said some mean things about you, and that was uncalled for. Besides, you might hear more of those tomorrow when we talk to the others. At least you'll know that I've realized you're much more than some mindless machine."

"Thank you," Tony repeated once more, still feeling somewhat dazed, in a good way.

  


* * *

  


Tony woke up feeling like he'd been run over by a truck and then gone on a bender. Business as usual, for someone approaching the final stages of death-by-palladium.

He groaned aloud, rolled over to curl up on his side—and jerked back, thoroughly startled, when he bumped into someone.

"Hey, it's okay, it's just me," the unexpected person next to Tony murmured soothingly, and a steadying hand appeared on his shoulder.

Steve. Right. Of course.

His brain wasn't quite up to his usual standards with the unwanted heavy metal supplement in his bloodstream, but it was slowly reaching full awareness, reminding him that he was back in the Tower.

He was back with Steve, and Steve knew everything.

Steve's hand traveled up to cup Tony's face, to run a thumb over his cheek. "How're you feeling?"

"Same old," Tony replied. No point in pretending. He was slightly less tired, and probably less likely to faint in the immediate future, but that didn't change the fact that he felt like crap.

"Think you could manage to eat something now?" Steve suggested.

Last night hadn't been too successful on that front; he'd barely been able to keep down half a smoothie. Not enough, he knew that. Not helping the way he was feeling. "I'll give it a shot," he said. He still had no appetite, but the worst of the nausea seemed to have abated for now.

As mornings went, this turned out to be the best one he'd had in ages. Maybe it really wasn't all bad that he was here.

Over the past weeks, he'd gotten used to waking up alone, sometimes in his bed, sometimes slumped over a desk at his shop. Forcing himself up and back to work had been getting more difficult by the day, with the worsening symptoms and growing despair. It was a lot easier with Steve by his side, even if his constant hovering bordered on tedious.

"Steve, I promise I won't pass out and hit my head, or whatever you're worried about. I can manage," he complained when Steve insisted on accompanying him to the shower.

"You don't think there could be other reasons for me to want to be there?" Steve returned in a sultry voice.

That just served to remind Tony of everything he was missing out on. "I won't be up for anything more exciting than cuddling. And yes, I'm referring to various interpretations of 'up'," he said ruefully. "I've looked better, too. So, no, can't think of a whole lot of other reasons."

"Honestly, you had me at cuddling," Steve said, not sounding the least bit disheartened.

Tony did love the cuddling. He couldn't seem to get enough of it. Steve's touch actually seemed to make him feel better. He knew that was all in his head, but he'd still take it, snuggling up against Steve under the spray of warm water.

Why had he thought he wanted to spend his last days alone when he could have this instead?

Yeah, it wasn't a bad morning at all.

The only thing he deeply disliked about this particular morning was the scheduled team meeting that he really wasn't looking forward to.

At quarter to eleven, at which point Tony was perfectly presentable but lounging in bed to conserve his energy, Mark II joined them. He was looking particularly sharp, dressed in one of Tony's undersuits.

"I dig your style," Tony told him.

"Hah. I considered changing out of this and back into something more human," Mark II returned, peeling back one sleeve to show that he was wearing the suit over his bare metal frame, "but then I thought, eh, if I'm done pretending to be one, why bother."

"No need to," Tony agreed.

"You're looking better, too," Mark II added. "I'm glad to see that."

"I assure you it's temporary," Tony said, unable to hide the bitter edge in his voice.

"We'll see about that," Steve said defiantly. "The Avengers are about to assemble and attack that problem with all our combined might."

Together, the three of them made their way to the common lounge. It still wasn't quite eleven o'clock when they got there, but the other Avengers, no doubt driven by curiosity, were already waiting.

Bruce and Clint's expressions when they saw Steve accompanied by not one but two Tonys were priceless, completely baffled. Both stood up from where they'd been sitting, all wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Natasha stayed on the couch, but even her eyebrows went up at the sight of the three of them. Tony hoped JARVIS was recording this from a good angle.

"Hi, all. It's been a while," Tony greeted them, sounding far more cheerful to his own ears than he actually felt. "I'd like to introduce you all to Tony Mark II," he gestured at the LMD. "He's been covering for me for the past three weeks or so."

"Howdy," Mark II said, and waved.

"Tony Two? Like one wasn't enough," Clint groaned.

"How's this possible?" Bruce asked. "Who is he? Some kind of shapeshifter?"

"I'm a Life Model Decoy. An android," Mark II said. Then, of course, since he had Tony's penchant for drama and flair, he opened the zipper at the front of the undersuit to reveal the golden metal of his chest.

"An android," Bruce repeated, sounding awed. He walked up to Mark II, pushing his glasses up his nose, as his gaze went from Mark II's arc reactor and the metal around it to his entirely human-looking face.

"You're more than welcome to touch me if you want to, lab bro," Mark II told him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Bruce actually did, reaching out a hand to brush his fingers against Mark II's bare frame. "This is incredible. I never suspected—I only realized you were different, somehow, when the others pointed it out. You built him?" Bruce asked, pulling his hand back and casting a glance at Tony.

"I did, but he's gone and grown up since, all on his own," Tony said. "I'm convinced he's fully sentient."

"Really? How can you be sure?" Bruce said, looking even more impressed. "Tony, you realize how big this is, if that's true?"

"Of course I do. Which one out of the two of us is the AI expert?" Tony returned.

"In case you don't want to take his word for it, I'm right here," Mark II said. "Anything you need to know to make your own conclusions, you can ask me."

Bruce looked at Mark II again. "Right, yes. Of course. Let me think about that a little. Wow. This is just," he shook his head. "I don't even know where to begin."

"While you think, can I ask something?" Natasha said. She got up, approaching Tony. "Because as amazing as this android is, I think we're missing the most important question here."

Tony could guess what that was going to be. "Sure, go ahead," he said, aiming for breezy, and not quite hitting it.

"The 'whats' and 'hows' of him are obviously very interesting, but what I want to know is 'why'. Why did you build him in the first place?" Natasha said, fixing Tony with a piercing stare.

"I'm a busy guy. Sometimes I need to be in two places at once," Tony replied. That was a perfectly accurate answer to that question. Back when he'd built Mark II, that had been all he'd been thinking about. Of course, that was not what he needed to say.

"And where did you need to be this time?" Clint demanded. "Where have you been, while we've been thinking robo-Tony is you?"

Every eye in the room was on Tony now.

He wasn't ready for this; really, he just wanted to rush out and hide, but that wasn't exactly an option anymore.

Better get it over with. "I was busy trying to figure out how to keep myself from dying," he said quickly, under his breath. "I'm still working on that."

"And we're all going to help," Steve added, placing a hand on Tony's back.

Bruce frowned. "Wait, slow down, start at the beginning. Did you say dying? What's wrong with you?"

"Maybe we should all sit down first," Steve said.

Steve nudged Tony towards the nearest couch, and Tony didn't resist. He honestly preferred not being on his feet. It was more taxing than he'd care to admit. He flopped onto the cushions, wishing he could sink into them and vanish from sight. Steve took a seat next to him, staying close, while Mark II remained standing. The other Avengers followed Steve's lead. They were all looking at Tony with various blends of confusion and concern, clearly waiting for him to go on with the explanation.

Tony considered mirroring Mark II's gesture and just pulling up his shirt to show the ugly lines crisscrossing his chest, but he was currently far too self-conscious about how he looked. "Yeah. So," he began. "Turns out my arc reactor has a slight design flaw, which means it's leaking palladium into my system. Which, it turns out, isn’t particularly good for you in the long run. Actually, it's very bad. Lethal, even."

"I wouldn't have thought it'd be that toxic," Bruce noted, frowning, resting his chin on his fist.

"Well, my situation isn't exactly something anyone's studied before. Trust me, it is. I've got empirical proof," Tony said. "Plenty of it. Wouldn't recommend this to anyone. Not fun."

"So, you really think this is gonna kill you?" Clint blurted out. "Are you sure?"

Natasha gave him a sidelong glance. "I don't think he'd be telling us if he wasn't."

Clint shrugged, looking apologetic. "It's just a lot to take in, all of a sudden."

"How long have you got?" Natasha asked Tony. He loved how she seemed matter-of-fact about it; serious, but not overly sad. Not like all those mournful stares he'd gotten from Steve.

"All we've got are guesses since, as always, I'm a unique case. The most recent guess says I've got about a week until the damage to my system is permanent and beyond what modern medicine can heal. After that, won't be long until something gives," Tony summarized, trying not to think about what those words meant.

"But you've tried to do something about this already, right? Surely it can still be treated," Bruce said. "Some kind of chelation therapy, maybe?"

Tony knew Bruce was referring to the treatment for more common types of heavy metal toxicity. He'd read a little about it, but he'd not spent very much time exploring that avenue, because it would also take time to figure out, and ultimately wouldn't solve the problem. There was no medication for this that he could keep on taking indefinitely. The key issue was technical. If he couldn't fix the reactor, then nothing else would matter, he'd still end up dead, sooner or later.

"Not exactly," he replied to Bruce. "I've been trying to come up with a safer reactor design."

"But that won't rid you of the palladium that's already built up in your system," Bruce pointed out. "Which is something you will need to sort out as well."

"What he's talking about, that could buy you more time, couldn't it?" Steve said, sounding hopeful.

"Yeah. Or it might make me too sick to work," Tony said. "I know most of those drugs come with significant side-effects."

"Still, it's something we need to think about. I can do that," Bruce offered, "so you can continue to focus on the reactor itself."

Tony leaned his head against the seatback, and sighed. "I should, but to be entirely honest with all of you, I've kind of hit a wall with that. I've gone through every known element, and nothing will work. I'm all out of ideas."

The room fell very silent for a moment. Tony wondered if the others were still shocked about the news that he was going to die, or flabbergasted that he'd openly admitted defeat. He didn't look at them, but stared at the ceiling instead.

Steve was the one to break the quiet. "If none of the known elements work, how about an unknown one, then? New ones are still discovered every now and then, right?"

Tony raised his head to give Steve an incredulous look.

"They are, but they tend to be radioactive and have really short half-lives," Bruce said, in a lecturing voice. "They'd hardly be useful."

"Yeah, they're mostly of theoretical interest," Tony said. "Cool science, but that's about it."

"Have you actually considered them, though, even just as a hypothetical, theoretical exercise?" Natasha asked. "I've heard that's what people used to say about arc reactor technology. That it's interesting, but could never be practical. Until you made it work."

"Well, I haven't considered them, no, not really," Tony admitted.

The scientist in him was shouting at him that this was silly and that it didn't make sense, and that he should stick to exploring less far-fetched solutions, but then, he'd already spent weeks on those, and gotten nowhere. Maybe this was something worth exploring.

"You know, they might be onto something," Mark II spoke up.

"I agree, sir," JARVIS joined in. "The improved container designs you've been working on may not have been suitable for use with the palladium core, but perhaps they could be repurposed for something different."

Well, shit.

He'd been so sure the others couldn't possibly have anything to suggest that he hadn't thought of already. Completely certain beyond any doubt. He was the smartest guy in the room, after all, and he knew the tech inside out—but maybe he'd overlooked something really important.

They really could be onto something here.

Maybe he wasn't going to die after all. That was a nice thought.

  


* * *

  


Once the conversation with the other Avengers was over, at Steve's insistence, Mark I contacted both Pepper and Rhodey to explain everything to them.

Mark I and Steve wanted Mark II to be present as well. The experience was probably the most perfect example of "awkward" that he'd come across so far.

He'd already gotten the impression earlier that Pepper didn't particularly like him, and wasn't too surprised when she was even angrier than Steve had been to hear the news. A lot of it was targeted at Mark I, of course, but Mark II got his fair share of seething glares and sharp words. It wasn't unreasonable of her, either. Mark I had already pulled similar switcheroos on her previously, more or less purposefully letting her believe Mark II was him. It was probably only because Mark II hadn't needed to interact with her very much in the past weeks that she hadn't caught the deception this time.

As for Rhodey, he seemed concerned, and somehow also disappointed, rather than angry. He hadn't suspected anything at all, unlike Pepper, who had noticed that Tony hadn't been quite himself, but had chalked that up to the breakup.

Both Rhodey and Pepper offered their help, in case there was anything they could do. Mark I and Steve assured them that they'd keep them posted, but for now, there wasn't. The next steps that they'd planned mostly involved research, and most of it Mark I wanted to do himself.

They spent most of the day on that research, with Bruce doing his own reading on the medical side of things, and Mark I launching into his arc reactor simulations with renewed enthusiasm. Steve and Mark II stayed close to him, both to keep an eye on him, and to bounce off ideas.

They were making good progress, but a call to assemble cut it short in the evening. After a brief but intense debate on the matter, Mark I accepted Mark II's offer to take care of it; it was an irrefutable fact that he was in no shape to fight in the armor, and besides, his research was more important than a routine mission.

The mission turned out to be not just routine, but a false alarm: the young man who had been threatening people with his allegedly superhuman fire-related powers was actually just an attention-seeker. He'd set up some pretty impressive fireworks, but had no special talents aside from knowing a bit of chemistry. The regular authorities could've handled him just as well, but Tony didn't mind that he'd gotten the chance to go out in the armor once more, if just to fly around. Just to be an Avenger.

He was going to miss this. He still didn't know what his future would hold, but now that things seemed to be moving in a good direction for Mark I, he found himself thinking a lot about what that might mean for him.

The next morning, they gathered in the common lounge for another meeting. The mood couldn't have been more different from the previous day, with a tangible air of hopeful anticipation in the room. Mark I was smiling more than Mark II had ever seen him do, which made his drawn features seem slightly better. Next to him, Steve looked pretty happy as well.

"This doesn't really make any sense and honestly I'm still having trouble believing the results myself, but the preliminary simulations I've run say that this completely nonsensical idea could actually work," Mark I announced. "I still need to work on it a bit, but I think I can start thinking about the practical details of the synthesis later today."

"That's fast! I can imagine a whole lot of chemists and physicists working on these topics are going to be seriously annoyed when they find out what you've done, Tony," Bruce commented, shaking his head and grinning. "Seriously, though, that's great news. I'm glad for you."

"How about your research?" Steve asked Bruce.

Bruce's face fell, the grin turning into a more subdued look. "I'm afraid I haven't been quite as successful," he admitted.

"How do you mean?" Mark I asked sharply. He'd lost his smile too, glowering at Bruce. "As long as we don't wait too long, this isn't untreatable, right?"

"Yes, yes, sorry, I'm sure it is, that's not what I meant," Bruce said. "It's just that the more I read, the more convinced I get that it's not something we should be attempting to treat on our own."

"So, you're saying we need to bring in experts?" Steve asked.

"Yes, exactly," Bruce confirmed. "You're all well aware I'm not a medical doctor, and we're dealing with an entirely unprecedented medical condition. We should bring in at least an MD with experience in treating heavy metal poisoning, and a biochemist with a background in relevant topics. That's the absolute minimum. We might want to consider a cardiologist too, considering Tony's medical history."

Mark I was grimacing at him, rolling his eyes. "No, that's absolutely out of the question."

Steve put a placating hand on his shoulder. "I think Bruce's right."

"I agree," Mark II said. "You probably could've saved yourself a lot of suffering if you'd done this at the very beginning, Senior."

"I have discussed this at length with Doctor Banner, and also consider what he suggests to be the best course of action," JARVIS said.

"You lose the vote again," Mark II added.

"This is _my_ health we're talking about, my medical details and my top secret tech that you want to disclose to random outsiders," Mark I said irritably. "This isn't a voting matter."

"Just think about it," Steve said, moving his hand from Mark I's shoulder to clasp his fingers between both hands. "You don't want to fix the arc reactor only to find yourself still just as sick because we don't know how to handle the damage already done to your body."

"We can figure it out ourselves," Mark I insisted.

"What if we can't? I still worry for you. Please, Tony. If not for any other reason, do this for me," Steve said, with that expression that Mark II was sure qualified as 'puppy dog eyes'. He'd been on the receiving end of it a few times himself. It was difficult to resist.

"We'll select the experts carefully," Bruce said. "You can decline anyone you don't want."

"I don't want to waste time on reviewing personnel files," Mark I said, waving his free hand at Bruce.

"I can help him," Mark II offered. He wasn't sure how much Mark I would let him do when it came to the engineering, but he could certainly do this. "You'd trust my judgement, right?"

"Sure. Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Do what you want," Mark I gave in.

Steve cast a thankful look at Mark II, which made him feel strangely warm in that pleasant way again.

He and Bruce got started with the search right away. Tony had been a little unsure of how Bruce, or any of the other Avengers, would treat him now that they knew what he was, and that he wasn't Mark I. Bruce definitely didn't seem to have any kind of a problem working with him. Instead, he seemed curious, and several times they ended up side-tracked from going through publication records and CVs to discussing some particular feature of Tony's build. It was a new experience for him to talk to someone who was genuinely interested in him. Not in Tony Stark, not in Mark I, but in Mark II, as he was: not human, but still a person. It gave him hope for the future.

At around lunchtime, JARVIS summoned him to the shop, where Mark I explained that Pepper needed someone to go give a talk, and that there was no way Mark I could do it himself.

"I'd be happy to go," Mark II said instantly. "As long as you make it crystal clear to Pepper that it's me and not you."

"I already told her it'd either be you or no one," Mark I assured him. "Don't worry. She's not angry at you. I think she's also starting to accept that in some situations, you're very handy to have around."

"I guess handy is one word for me," Mark II said. He realized that this could be a good opportunity to talk about what had been on his mind a lot lately. "Speaking of which, do you think maybe I could keep doing this once you're better?"

"Seeing as 'this' is basically why I created you in the first place, of course?" Mark I replied, looking a little confused.

"Yeah, but it was always the last resort, when you had no other choice but to dust me off and send me out there. You said you wouldn't want to shut me down and lock me up in the basement again, so what's the alternative? Can I keep doing missions? Can I be an Avenger, if you're around as well?" Mark II asked. It probably came through sounding whiny, and a little desperate. Of course, that was exactly how he felt.

"Well, that was what I thought we'd do," Mark I said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course, we can't be seen in public at the same time, so we have to be careful about this, but I'm sure we can manage. Besides, as long as one of us is in armor, it's easy enough to claim that the armor is remote-controlled, in case anyone asks."

"So, since you seem to be living in Steve's quarters now, can I have yours?" Mark II joked.

"Hah! You think we can't share? It's not like you need the bed," Mark I returned.

"Oh, that's a low blow," Mark II complained.

"Hey, I wouldn't do that to you. I was just referring to sleeping," Mark I said quickly. "I do think we need to talk about names, though. We can't both be Tony. Of course, we are, but that's a little confusing to everyone. Just calling you Mark II all the time feels kind of dehumanizing. Do you have a preference? You can have Anthony or Edward if you want to. No one calls me either of those anyway. Ed, maybe?"

Mark II had no answer to that. He'd always just been Tony, or Mark II, or any number of nicknames that Mark I came up with. Anything else didn't quite seem to fit. "I don't really have a preference," he replied.

"Hm, how about just 'Mark', then?" Mark I suggested. "Mark Anthony Stark? That'd be a convincing name if I ever heard one."

Mark II let out a chuckle. "Mark Anthony?" he repeated, and shook his head. It was ridiculous. He kind of liked it. "I think I could get used to that."

So, all of a sudden, he had been promised an actual, permanent spot on the team—and given a new name.

It should've been a simple matter of rewriting his protocols to refer to himself as Mark and Mark I as Tony, but it didn't _feel_ simple. He'd been Tony all his life. That was what he called himself, and what others had been calling him, even if most of the time they'd been doing so assuming him to be Mark I. Unfortunately, he couldn't spend a whole lot of time mulling over this unexpected identity crisis, since he had a talk to give.

The talk was all right, in the end; at least Pepper seemed pleased, even though Mark had basically improvised the whole thing, and it wasn't entirely coherent. Then again, that was also exactly how Tony would've done it.

The next day, there was another meeting Pepper needed him for, as well as an Avengers mission he dealt with on Tony's behalf. Between those Mark and Bruce still found time to finish the list of potential medical experts to help Tony, and contacted the top candidates.

While Mark was busy doing all this, Tony finalized his plans and started building a particle accelerator.

As crazy plans went, this was in a league of its own.

  


* * *

  


Tony had built a lot of awesome things in his time. He wasn't prepared to say that the small synchrotron he'd cobbled together in the Tower's training hall in less than two days was the best thing he'd ever built—it definitely didn't rival the suits—but it was pretty damn amazing.

Especially since it worked.

Not that he'd admit to anyone that he'd ever had any doubts about that. Still, he'd not been having the best engineering streak as of late, not to mention his deep disappointment over how his original arc reactor design, which he'd also considered awesome before this mess, had turned out to be so terribly, fatally flawed.

This time, it was going to be better.

He crouched in front of the new arc reactor, now glowing a blue that seemed slightly brighter and paler than that of the old model, and picked it up from its slot in the synchrotron's frame.

"Did it work?" Steve asked, his voice soft and cautious.

"Of course it did," Tony replied smugly, and held out his hand with the new reactor on his palm. "Just look at that. Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've seen?"

"I wouldn't go quite that far," Steve said. He gave Tony a smile that, together with the almost overwhelming relief and the buzz of excitement over his success, made him feel all giddy.

"We should head to the lab to run some tests on it," Bruce said.

Bruce was standing a few steps behind Steve, together with Clint, Natasha and Mark II. Mark. Just Mark, now, Tony had to remind himself. Everyone was still getting used to the new name, but at least it wasn't too big of a change from before.

Rhodey and Pepper had stayed further back, not far from the door, as if they were expecting the whole experiment to blow up. That was insulting. Tony's experiments almost never blew up, unless they were meant to.

He did, secretly, love it that everyone had wanted to be here to witness the moment. Well, everyone except for Thor, but he was still in Asgard, happily ignorant of everything. It'd take some time to tell him the whole story. Of course, the story wasn't quite finished, yet; Tony had to make sure this new reactor really worked.

"Nah," he told Bruce. "I think we've done enough testing." Only simulations, of course, but he trusted those with his life. Was going to trust them with his life right now.

Without bothering to warn the others, he pulled the old, stupid, toxic arc reactor out of his chest.

Steve stepped closer, reaching for his shoulder, while Bruce exclaimed an alarmed "Tony, wait, that's not a good idea!"

Tony shook his head at them. "It's the best idea. It works. I know it."

With six concerned pairs of human eyes fixed on him—and one android who looked rather amused than worried—Tony slammed the new reactor home.

Everyone was very quiet and still.

Tony waited for something to happen.

He didn't really feel any different.

The arc reactor felt—like an arc reactor. A just noticeable low hum in the middle of his sternum, like always. Just like the old one. He had to check the reactor he was still holding in one hand to confirm that he hadn't somehow gotten confused and plugged the old one back in. He hadn't.

Somehow, he'd thought it should feel different, but then, there was no reason why it would. Like Bruce kept reminding him, this wasn't a cure. He was still just as tired and achy as he'd been before, even with the latest, fine-tuned regimen of medication he was on.

"Well?" Steve asked, his voice as tense as his face.

"Well, it seems to be doing its job," Tony said, offering him a victorious grin.

"Power output is optimal," JARVIS's voice announced. "Vital signs remain unchanged from earlier."

"As could be expected," Bruce pointed out. "You've solved the technical problem. The team has only started working on the medical one. It's going to take time to get you back to normal."

Rhodey and Pepper walked over to stand next to Mark, apparently convinced now that there would be no explosions.

"Are you serious?" Rhodey said incredulously. "There's no treatment in the world that's gonna make him normal."

"Normal is boring anyway," Clint said, and he and Rhodey exchanged a surprisingly fond look.

"Guys, stop it, you're making me blush," Tony complained.

"You should enjoy this while it lasts," Natasha said, with a crooked grin of her own. "Once you're completely out of mortal peril…"

"Hah, that's also something that'll never happen," Pepper noted. "If it's not palladium poisoning, then at least there's going to be some crazy supervillain or assassin or monster after him."

"He'll be a lot harder to catch now that he's got the perfect decoy," Mark said.

Another surprisingly fond and perhaps slightly conspiratorial glance was exchanged between Mark and Pepper. Tony was glad to see those two were finally starting to get along.

"Honestly, I can't wait to get back to all that," Tony said brightly. "Here, catch," he added, and tossed the old reactor at Mark. "I won't be needing this anymore, but if you ever have use for a spare, it'll work just fine for you."

Mark caught it far more effortlessly than Tony would've. "Waste not, want not, eh?" he said, not sounding particularly excited.

"You're not jealous of me having the latest model, are you?" Tony returned, tapping at the new reactor in his chest with his index finger.

"Of course not. Older models often have some redeeming qualities, too. Even if they're not quite as powerful or quite as pretty as the later iterations." Mark winked cheekily. Was it just Tony, or was he getting more expressive by the day?

"Really, neither is better than the other," Steve spoke up. "It's just a question of what works best for each situation."

Steve stepped closer to Mark, and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek.

Mark stared at Steve like he'd just had a minor meltdown, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed over.

Steve returned to Tony's side, placed one hand between his shoulder blades, and pulled him into a proper, full-on kiss.

For the first time in months, Tony was entirely convinced, without the slightest doubt, that everything was going to be all right.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The tumblr post with DragonK's awesome arts which inspired this story can be found [here](http://dksartz.tumblr.com/post/161170026943/dksartz-my-many-artworks-for-team-classic-for), go show them some love! <3


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